“Bravo! bravo!” he exclaimed. “There, I don’t think you will want any more of my physic now.”
Kenneth lay back, looking sadly shamefaced; and his father half-pleased, half-annoyed, as he opened the door and dismissed the dogs, but not unkindly.
“I’m glad to see you so much better, Ken.”
“Thank you, father. I was only showing Max—”
“How much better you are!” interposed the doctor. “Well, I’m very glad; only I’d lie still now. Don’t overdo it. There, Mr Mackhai, I have done. Thank you for your hospitality. I can go to-morrow.”
“No; you’ll stop and have a few days’ fishing.”
“Not one more, thank you; but if I am up here next year, and you would let me have a day or two on your water, I should be glad.”
“As many days as you like, sir, for the rest of your life,” said The Mackhai warmly, “for you saved that of my boy.”
Ten minutes after, when they went down-stairs, Kenneth said,—
“I say, Max, what a humbug I must have looked! But I am ever so much better. I hope old Curzon will come and fish next year.”