"They might have sent to me," he cried, in resentment. "To go away and never let me know it!"
"They may have thought you were too agreeably engaged to care to be disturbed," remarked the surgeon.
"What do you mean?" demanded Val, hotly.
Mr. Hillary laughed. "People will talk, you know; and rumour has it that Lord Hartledon has found attractions in his own home, whilst the Rectory was debarred to him."
Val wheeled round on his heel, and walked away in displeasure. Home truths are never palatable. But the kindly disposition of the man resumed its sway immediately: he turned back, and pointed to the shed.
"Is that interesting patient of yours on his legs again?"
"He is getting better. The disease attacked him fiercely and was unusually prolonged. It's strange he should have been the only one to take it."
"Gum's wife has been nursing him, I hear?"
"She has gone in and out to do such necessary offices as the sick require. I put it to her from a Christian point of view, you see, and on the score of humanity. She was at hand; and that's a great thing where the nurse is only a visiting one."
"Look here, Hillary; don't let the man want for anything; see that he has all he needs. He is a black sheep, no doubt; but illness levels us all to one standard. Good day."