"Pater," he said, touching the Squire's massive shoulder, "how are you feeling? Any twinges of gout or—er—anything of that sort?"
"I'm sound as a bell, Mark. Of course I have my worries. There are three farms on my hands, and the price of corn lower than it has been for years. I don't know what George will do after I'm gone. That is why I—um—spoke of the obvious way out of the wood. Put on a black tie to-morrow morning, my dear lad, and—er—a grey suit, to—to oblige me."
"All right," said Mark. "I'm going to write, you know."
"Write?" the Squire turned, as he was passing into the hall. "Write—what?"
"Novels, short stories, plays perhaps."
"Oh, d——n it!" said the Squire ruefully.
CHAPTER XXVI
READJUSTMENT
After Mark's return from Pitt Hall, he called on Barger and Drax, who overhauled him and pronounced him a new man. Drax, in particular, took extraordinary interest in the case, refused a fee, and begged Mark to come and see him at least once a quarter.
"I never thought I should speak to you again," he said frankly. "It's the vis medicatrix naturæ. You went back to the simple primal life. Well—stick to it! A winter in Sutherland! Phew-w-w! Kill or cure, and no mistake. I should like to meet your friend, Doctor Stride."