“Doctor?” said the professor rather dreamily, as he sat down beside the patient. “I suppose he knows best. I did not know you were so ill, my boy.”
“I’m not ill, sir.”
“But they say you are, my lad. I was going abroad; but I heard that you were not so well, and—and I came up.”
“I am very glad,” said the lad, “for it is very dull lying here. Old Dunny is very good to me, only she will bother me so to take more medicine, and things that she says will do me good, and I do get so tired of everything. How is the book getting on, sir?”
“Oh, very slowly, my lad,” said the professor, with more animation. “I was going abroad to travel and study the places about which I am writing, but—”
“When do you go?” cried the lad eagerly.
“I was going within a few days, but—”
“Whereto?”
“Smyrna first, and then to the south coast of Asia Minor, and from thence up into the mountains.”
“Is it a beautiful country, Mr Preston?”