“Kezia bade me, sir, and you know I dare not disobey her,” answered Joseph, demurely.
“And I bade him just for the reason I said,” exclaimed Kezia.
“Let us see it by all means,” cried Mr Fluke, hastening in the direction of the tool-house, which was in a corner of the garden on the north side, out of sight.
Kezia stalked on before her master and her husband. She entered first, and came out with a flower-pot in her hand. The tulip, instead of having gained in size and beauty, looked withered, and its once proud head hung down, its colours sadly faded.
“There,” she exclaimed; “that’s just like our Owen. You shut him up in your dark office, and expect him to grow up strong and healthy, with the same bright complexion he had when he came to us. Some natures will stand it, but his, it is very certain, cannot. Maybe, if we put this tulip in the sun and give it air and water, it will recover; and so may he, if you allow him to enjoy the fresh breezes, and the pure air of the sea. Otherwise, as I have told you, all your kindness and the good intentions you talk of to advance him in life will come to nothing. I repeat it, Mr Fluke, Owen Hartley will be in his grave before another year is out if he has to breathe for eight hours or more every day the close atmosphere of Kelson, Fluke and Company’s office.”
Mr Fluke walked away without answering Kezia, and kept pacing up and down the garden in a state of perturbation very unusual for him.
Owen had been kept at the office, and did not get home until late. He observed that Mr Fluke was watching him narrowly.
“Yes, you do look somewhat pale,” said the old gentleman; “I see it now. How do you feel, boy?”
“Very well, sir,” answered Owen, naturally enough; “only a little tired now and then. It is my own fault, I suppose, that I do not sleep so soundly as I used to do, and do not care much about my food.”
The next day, although without any preconcerted arrangement, Captain Aggett called at Mr Fluke’s office, and desired to see him on private business.