“But do you really mean, Mr Burne, that, supposing the doctor gives his consent, you would accompany us abroad?”
“To be sure I do, sir, and I mean to make myself as unpleasant as I can. I’ve a right to do so, haven’t I.”
“Of course,” said the professor coldly.
“And I’ve a right to make myself jolly if I like, haven’t I, sir?”
“Certainly,” replied the professor, gazing intently at the fierce grizzled little man before him, and wondering how much he spent a-year in snuff.
“It will not cost you anything, and I shall not charge my expenses to the estate, any more than I shall let you charge yours, sir.”
“Of course not, sir,” said the professor more coldly still, and beginning to frown.
“You shall pay your expenses, I’ll pay mine, and young Lawrence here shall pay his; and I tell you what, sir, we three will have a thoroughly good outing. We’ll take it easy, and we’ll travel just where you like, and while you make notes, Lawrence here and I will fish and run about and catch butterflies, eh? Hang it, I haven’t caught a butterfly these three or four and thirty years, and I think it’s time I had a try. Eh, what are you laughing at, sir?”
Lawrence Grange’s laugh was low and feeble, but it brightened up his sad face, and was contagious, for it made the professor smile as well. The cold stern look passed away, and he held out his hand to the lawyer.
“Agreed, sir,” he said. “If the doctor gives his consent, we will all three go, and, please Heaven, we will restore our young friend here his health and strength.”