“I should be much gratified by remaining to partake of your hospitality,” answered Smithson,—“and even still more rejoiced to form the acquaintance of such an estimable character as Mr. Sheepshanks; but, unfortunately, my time is precious—and I must depart at once.”
With these words Smithson turned away from the window; and approaching Mr. Granby, who was lounging upon the sofa, seemingly gazing on vacancy, he touched him on the shoulder, saying, “Good bye, my dear friend: you are going to stay here for a few days with Dr. Swinton—and you will find yourself very comfortable.”
“I am already very comfortable,” observed Granby, beginning to play with his fingers in a stolid, silly manner. “Can you talk with the hands, Smithson?”
“Oh! yes—and I will come to-morrow and hold a conversation with you by that method,” was the answer.
“Well—don’t forget,” said Granby; “and bring all my friends with you,—twenty—thirty—forty of them, if you like. I shall know how to entertain them.”
“In that case I will bring them all, my dear fellow,” returned Smithson: then, in a whisper to the Doctor, he observed, “You perceive how childish he is—but perfectly harmless.”
“Ah! I begin to fear with you that his cure will be no easy nor speedily-accomplished matter,” responded the physician, also in a low tone.
“But you will do your best, Doctor, I know,” said Smithson: then, turning once more to his friend, he exclaimed, “Good-bye, Granby—I am off.”
“Well, go—I don’t mean to accompany you,” answered the patient, without moving from his recumbent position, and without even glancing towards Smithson; but maintaining his eyes fixed upon his fingers, with which he appeared to be practising the dumb alphabet. “Go along, I say—I am very comfortable where I am.”
Mr. Smithson heaved a profound sigh, and, bidding the Doctor farewell, hurried to the carriage, with his cambric handkerchief to his eyes.