Yussuf the Guide | Page 4

and I will stop and see to my dear old friend's son."
Poo woomp poomp. Pah!
Mr Burne blew a perfectly triumphal blast with his pocket-handkerchief, took out his snuff-box, put it back, jumped up, and, crossing to where the professor was standing, shook his hand very warmly, and without a word, while Mrs Dunn wiped her eyes upon her very stiff watered silk apron, but found the result so unsatisfactory that she smoothed it down, and hunted out a pocket-handkerchief from somewhere among the folds of her dress and polished her eyes dry.
Then she seemed as if she put a sob in that piece of white cambric, and wrapped it up carefully, just as if it were something solid, doubling the handkerchief over and over and putting it in her pocket before going up to the professor and kissing his hand.
"Ha!" said the latter, smiling at first one and then the other. "This is very good of you. I don't often find people treat me so kindly as this. You see, I am such an abstracted, dreamy man. I devote myself so much to my studies that I think of nothing else. My friends have given me up, and--and I'm afraid they laugh at me. I am writing, you see, a great work upon the old Roman occupation of--. Dear me! I'm wandering off again. Mrs Dunn, can I not see my old friend's son?"
"To be sure you can, sir. Pray, come," cried the old lady; and, leading the way, she ushered the two visitors out into the hall, the professor following last, consequent upon having gone back to fetch the two big folio volumes; but recollecting himself, and colouring like an ingenuous girl, he took them back, and laid them upon the dining-room table.
Mrs Dunn paused at the drawing-room door and held up a finger.
"Please, be very quiet with him, gentlemen," she said. "The poor boy is very weak, and you must not stay long."
The lawyer nodded shortly, the professor bent his head in acquiescence, and the old lady opened the drawing-room door.
CHAPTER THREE.
A PLAN IS MADE.
As they entered, a pale attenuated lad of about seventeen, who was lying back in an easy-chair, with his head supported by a pillow, and a book in his hand, turned to them slightly, and his unnaturally large eyes had in them rather a wondering look, which was succeeded by a smile as the professor strode to his side, and took his long, thin, girlish hand.
"Why, Lawrence, my boy, I did not know you were so ill."
"Ill? Nonsense, man!" said the lawyer shortly. "He's not ill. Are you, my lad?"
He shook hands rather roughly as he spoke from the other side of the invalid lad's chair, while Mrs Dunn gave her hands an impatient jerk, and went behind to brush the long dark hair from the boy's forehead.
He turned up his eyes to her to smile his thanks, and then laid his cheek against the hand that had been smoothing his hair.
"No, Mr Burne, I don't think I'm ill," he said in a low voice. "I only feel as if I were so terribly weak and tired. I get too tired to read sometimes, and I never do anything at all to make me so."
"Hah!" ejaculated the lawyer.
"I thought it was the doctor come back," continued the lad. "I say, Mr Preston--you are my guardian, you know--is there any need for him to come? I am so tired of cod-liver oil."
"Yah!" ejaculated the lawyer; "it would tire anybody but a lamp."
He snorted this out, and then blew another blast upon his nose, which made some ornament upon the chimney-piece rattle.
"Doctor?" said the professor rather dreamily, as he sat down beside the patient. "I suppose he knows best. I did not know you were so ill, my boy."
"I'm not ill, sir."
"But they say you are, my lad. I was going abroad; but I heard that you were not so well, and--and I came up."
"I am very glad," said the lad, "for it is very dull lying here. Old Dunny is very good to me, only she will bother me so to take more medicine, and things that she says will do me good, and I do get so tired of everything. How is the book getting on, sir?"
"Oh, very slowly, my lad," said the professor, with more animation. "I was going abroad to travel and study the places about which I am writing, but--"
"When do you go?" cried the lad eagerly.
"I was going within a few days, but--"
"Whereto?"
"Smyrna first, and then to the south coast of Asia Minor, and from thence up into the mountains."
"Is it a beautiful country, Mr Preston?"
"Yes; a very wild and lovely country, I believe."
"With mountains and valleys and flowers?"
"Oh, yes, a glorious place."
"And when are you going?"
"I was going within