Grace sat up. "Now," he said cheerfully, "this is real good of you to come and see me! Take a seat, sir."
The chairs were what the doctor once described as non-sitable, and wabbled as they sat down.
"You are better, I see, Grace," said the doctor. "I fetched up the Squire for a consultation."
"Yes, I'm near about right." He had none of the common feeling of the poor that he must excuse his surroundings to these richer visitors, nor any least embarrassment. "It's good to see some one, Mr. Penhallow."
"I come on a pleasant errand," said Penhallow. "We will talk it over and then leave you to the doctor. Mrs. Penhallow wants me to roof your church. I came to say to you that I shall do it with pleasure. You will lose the use of it for one Sunday at least."
"Thank you, Squire," said Grace simply. "That's real good medicine."
"I will see to it at once."
The doctor opened a window, and Penhallow drew a grateful breath of fresh air.
"Don't go, sir," said Grace. The Squire sat down again while McGregor went through his examination of the sick man. Then he too rose to leave.
"Must you go?" said Grace. "It is such a pleasure to see some one from the outside." The doctor smiled and lingered.