“You shall get up soon, when you’re better,” was Jack’s reply.
“I are better, governor.”
“Yes, but you won’t be unless you lie still for a day or two more, and do what you’re told,” said Jack, firmly.
Whereat the boy subsided.
Hawkesbury turned up at his place at the office in a benevolent frame of mind, and received over my petty-cash and the beautiful copy of accounts which accompanied it with the utmost condescension.
He was extremely obliged to me, he said, for taking charge of the accounts during his absence, and had no doubt he would find everything correct when he went through the figures. He hoped it had not given me much extra work, and that during his absence I had been in the enjoyment of good health and spirits.
All which “gush” I accepted with due gratitude, wondering inwardly whether he had been actually made a partner since I last saw him—he was so very gracious.
“By the way,” said I, when the ceremony was at an end, and feeling a little mischievously inclined, as well as being anxious to vent my feelings on the point—“by the way, your particular friend Masham came to our lodging the other evening.”
“Ah, did he?” said Hawkesbury, blandly; “I’m glad he called. He wanted to see you again. He took rather a fancy to you that day, you know.”
“Did he?” said I. “I think he was rather sorry he called, though.”