“Worse, sir, worse decidedly.”
“Really, Mr Burne, I am sorry to differ from you,” replied the professor stiffly; “but I must say that Lawrence is, to my way of thinking, decidedly improved.”
“Pah! Tchah! Absurd!” cried the lawyer; and he went off blowing his nose.
Another day he met the professor, who had just left Lawrence’s side after sitting and talking with him for some time, and there was an anxious, care-worn look in his eyes that impressed the sharp lawyer at once.
“Hallo!” he exclaimed; “what’s the matter?”
The professor shook his head.
“Lawrence,” he said sadly.
“Eh? Bless me! You don’t say so,” cried Mr Burne; and he hurried out into the verandah, which was the lad’s favourite place.
There Mr Burne stayed for about a quarter of an hour, and then went straight to where the professor was writing a low-spirited letter to Mrs Dunn, in which he had said that he regretted bringing Lawrence right away into those distant regions, for though Trieste was a large port, and there was plenty of medical attendance to be obtained, it was not like being at home.
“I say! Look here!” cried Mr Burne, “you ought to know better, you know.”