feeling very little the worse for his
long morning's walk, and meaning to go up and busy himself in the
laboratory; but to his surprise Mrs Fidler stopped him.

"Don't go away, Master Tom; it's close to one o'clock, and lunch will be
ready. We will have regular dinner at seven, when your uncle comes
back."

"If he does come to-night," said Tom.

"Oh, he will, my dear, if he possibly can, you may depend upon it."

The housekeeper was right, for soon after half-past six the station fly
brought Uncle Richard back, tired, but looking brighter than when he
started.

"How is he?" said Tom anxiously.

"Better, much better. Your aunt says a change came over him soon after
we had gone, my boy, and the doctor thinks that he will come round now."

Tom looked very hard in his uncle's eyes, and Uncle Richard looked very
hard in his, but neither of them spoke. They each thought the same
thing though, and that was, that the doctor had said he had something
upon his mind. That something was no longer there, and its removal had
achieved what no medical man could have done, and so quickly that it
seemed to be like a miracle.

A week passed, and two answers to letters of inquiry came down to
Heatherleigh, both saying that Uncle James was improving fast.

Another week, and only one letter came, with the same report.

The next week a short acknowledgment came from Sam, to say that his
father was nearly well, and had gone down to Bournemouth for a change.

"I think, Tom, we may as well finish the telescope," said Uncle Richard
dryly. "Let's set to work at once."

That same day Mrs Fidler, who had heard the news, seized an opportunity
to deliver her opinions to Tom.

"It's just as I thought, sir," she said, "he was never really bad. It
was all nerves and fidgetting about himself. He thought he was in a
very bad state, and kept on making himself worse and worse, till he
believed that he was going to die. It was nothing but nerves."

"It was something else," thought Tom; and what that something was he did
not confide to the housekeeper.

"I'm glad he has got well again," he said to himself; "but I hope
neither he nor Cousin Sam will come down here."

CHAPTER FORTY.

Time went on at its customary pace, and Uncle Richard had business in
London again, where he was detained for some time.

At last there came a letter saying that he would not be back yet, but
that he hoped Tom would complete a perfect plane mirror