“Oh! that’s all! I mean it’s not a case of typhus or small-pox. I should not care to imperil my valuable life by running in the way of that sort of thing,” observed Marmaduke.
“Have no fear. The complaint is not catching,” replied his brother. “Whatever good he may do you, he’ll do you no harm.”
“Dear Marmy! it’s very good of you!” whispered Nelly, as she tripped down-stairs after the reluctant messenger, and helped him on with his fur coat in the hall.
“It’s not a bit good; it’s an infernal bore, and I’m only doing it to please you, Nell,” protested Marmaduke. “What a fool’s errand it is! I sha’n’t know from Adam what to say to the man when I get there. What am I to say to him?”
“Oh! anything,” suggested Nelly. “Say you have come to see him because Stephen is ill, and ask him how he is. You’re never at a loss for something to say, you know that right well; and whatever you say is sure to be right.”
“When I know who I’m talking to; but I don’t know this interesting party, or what topics of conversation he particularly affects. He won’t expect me to preach him a sermon, eh?” And Marmaduke faced round with a look of such comical terror at the thought that Nelly again burst out laughing.
“Heaven forbid! That’s the last thing you need dream of,” she cried. “He is much more likely to preach to you.”
“Oh! indeed; but I didn’t bargain for that. I would very much rather be excused,” protested Marmaduke, anything but reassured.
“You foolish boy! I mean that he will preach to you as the poor always do—by example; by their patience, and their gratitude for the least thing one does for them.”
“I’m not going to do anything for John Baines that I can see; only bothering him with a visit which he would very likely rather I spared him.”