"Well, now Gilbert, if you have to, I've no more to say—about you. Go, of course; but Lucy and her father are going to stay with me. I'm the doctor and the nurse. You go to Aunt Sarah, for that's your 'business reason' and it's all right—I'm not blaming you—and in a week come back for your well brother."
"Yes, that might do," agreed Uncle Gilbert, with much relief in his manner of saying it. "I don't like to impose on you—"
"Look here—if you want to do me a favor, you go to your wife and let me take care of these people. In fact," he laughed, "I don't want you around bothering. The steamer sails for Dublin this evening."
Out of this pleasant banter came the fact that Uncle Gilbert could very well go on his way to Ireland. His brother was in no immediate danger—in fact that morning he was resting easily and his power of speech was returning. Gilbert spoke to his brother about the plan, and no protest was made. So that evening, sure enough, Uncle Gilbert was driven in to Liverpool by the captain, where he set sail for home.
No sooner was his brother well out of the way than Lucy's father called to her. He had been up and dressed all afternoon. He was now reclining in the captain's easy chair by the window. Lucy came to him.
"Yes, father," she said.
He motioned to her to sit down. She fetched a stool and seated herself by him, so that he could touch her head caressingly as he seemed to desire.
"Where is Chester?" he asked slowly, as was his wont when his speech came back.
"In London," she replied. "He could not come with us."