He sat down with father and son in the unchanged surroundings of the untidy office; even the flies were busy as before on the old man's tempting bald head.
"Well, John," said the doctor, "what's up now? The Squire won't see me at all." Tom sat still and listened.
"There are two things to consider, and I want your advice; but, first, I want to say that there is no head to that family. I wonder how Leila stands it. I mean that your advice shall be taken about a consultation with Prof. Askew."
"You want my advice? Do you, indeed! Mrs. Penhallow will ask the
Colonel's opinion, he will swear, and the matter is at an end."
"I mean to have that consultation," said John. Tom laughed and nodded approval.
"It's no use, John, none," said the older man.
"We shall see about that. Do you approve?—that is my question."
"If that's the form of advice you want, why, of course—yes—but count me out."
"Count me in, John," said the younger surgeon. "I know what Askew will say and what should have been done long ago."
"An operation?" asked his father.