CHAPTER XX.
Dr. Harrison had but little left Mr. Linden that morning, when Mr. Simlins came in. He had hardly seen his guest yet that day, except, like Mrs. Derrick, when he was asleep. For having watched himself the greater part of the night, for the pure pleasure of it, Mr. Simlins' late rest had brought him almost to the hour when the boys came to what the doctor called Mr. Linden's levee.
"Well how do you find yourself?" said the farmer, standing at the foot of the bed and looking at its occupant with a kind of grim satisfaction.
"I find myself tired, sir—and at the same time intending to get up.
Mr. Simlins, are you going down to church this afternoon?"
"Well, no," said the farmer. "I think it's as good church as I can do, to look arter you."
"You can have both," said Mr. Linden smiling,—"I should go with you."
"You aint fit," said the farmer regretfully.
"Fit enough—I'll come back and stay with you another day, when I am well, if you'll let me."
"Will you?" said the farmer. "I'll bottle that 'ere promise and cork it up; and if it aint good when I pull the cork—then I'll never play Syrian again, for no one. But s'pose I ain't goin' to church?"
"Then I shall have to take Reuben."