The junior partner shook his head, kindly but resolutely.
"No, no; not yet awhile. So long as your mind remains clear, just keep composed; and then, when you feel any decided change, I'll hold nothing back from you, and we can get the rest of the family round the bedside. You'll agree that's the best thing."
The orthodoxy of this programme ought, one would think, to have soothed the W.S. But it is strange what fancies sick men take.
"I don't agree at all," said Mr. Walkingshaw warmly. "In fact, I may tell you Cyrus warned me there might be kind of temporary complications."
He looked at his son for a moment and then added, with sudden decision—
"Andrew, I'd like to see Cyrus."
A grim smile dilated Andrew's cheeks.
"You'll have to catch him first. He's off."
"Off?"
"Bolted this morning as soon as he heard he'd done for you. I hear he owes a couple of hundred pounds in the town, one way and another. That's your Professor for you!"