fore good
things should be given to him. Harry had told himself that his uncle was
not his father, and that it had not been his fault that he was his
uncle's heir. He had not asked his uncle for an allowance. He had grown
up with the feeling that Buston Hall was to be his own, and had not
regarded his uncle as the donor. His father, with his large family, had
never exacted much,--had wanted no special attention from him. And if not
his father, then why his uncle? But his inattention, his absence of
gratitude for peculiar gifts, had sunk deep into Mr. Prosper's bosom.
Hence had come Miss Thoroughbung as his last resource, and Miss
Thoroughbung had--called him Peter. Hence his mind had wandered to Miss
Puffle, and Miss Puffle had gone off with the farmer's son, and, as he
was now informed, had taken to drinking gin. Therefore he turned his
face to the wall and prepared himself to die.

On the next day he sent for Matthew again. Matthew first came to him
always in the morning, but on that occasion very little conversation
ever took place. In the middle of the day he had a bowl of soup brought
to him, and by that time had managed to drag himself out of bed, and to
clothe himself in his dressing-gown, and to seat himself in his
arm-chair. Then when the soup had been slowly eaten, he would ring his
bell, and the conversation would begin. "I have been thinking over what
I was saying yesterday, Matthew." Matthew simply assented, but he knew
in his heart that his master had been thinking over what he himself had
said.

"Is Mr. Harry at the rectory?"

"Oh yes; he's there now. He wouldn't stir from the rectory till he hears
that you are better."

"Why shouldn't he stir? Does he mean to say that I'm going to die?
Perhaps I am. I'm very weak, but he doesn't know it."

Matthew felt that he had made a blunder, and that he must get out of it
as well as he could. "It isn't that he is thinking anything of that, but
you are confined to your room, sir. Of course he knows that."

"I never told him."

"He's most particular in his inquiries from day to day."

"Does he come here?"

"He don't venture on that, because he knows as how you wouldn't wish
it."

"Why shouldn't I wish it? It'd be the most natural thing in the world."

"But there has been--a little--I'm quite sure Mr. Harry don't wish to
intrude. If you'd let me give it to be understood that you'd like him to
call, he'd be over here in a jiffy." Then, very slowly, Mr. Pro