Harry, at any rate, was shown up, and in two minutes' time
was standing over his uncle's sick-chair. "I have not been quite well
just lately," he said, in answer to the inquiries made.
"We are very sorry to hear that, sir."
"I suppose you've heard it before."
"We did hear that you were a little out of sorts."
"Out of sorts! I don't know what you call out of sorts. I have not been
out of this room for well-nigh a month. My sister came to see me one
day, and that's the last Christian I've seen."
"My mother would be over daily if she fancied you'd like it."
"She has her own duties, and I don't want to be troublesome."
"The truth is, Uncle Prosper, that we have all felt that we have been in
your black books; and as we have not thought that we deserved it, there
has been a little coolness."
"I told your mother that I was willing to forgive you."
"Forgive me what? A fellow does not care to be forgiven when he has done
nothing. But if you'll only say that by-gones shall be by-gones quite
past I'll take it so." He could not give up his position as head of the
family so easily,--an injured head of the family. And yet he was anxious
that by-gones should be by-gones, if only the young man would not be so
jaunty, as he stood there by his arm-chair.
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