This is what the doctor said, for he had been fetched and had felt d.i.c.k's pulse. He had looked very grave and shaken his head, saying that fever might supervene, and ended by prescribing a stimulus under another name, and a hot bath.

"Just as if I hadn't sucked up water enough to last me for a month!"

d.i.c.k had said.

The people at the little hotel thought it unnecessary to send for a doctor, and when he came the doctor thought so too; but he omitted to make any remarks to that effect, contenting himself with looking very grave, and treating d.i.c.k as if his was a very serious case indeed.

And now the patient was lying snugly tucked up in bed, with only his nose and one eye visible, with the exception of a tuft of his hair, and Arthur was undressing in the dark, and very carefully folding up his clothes.

He had been deliberately undressing himself, brushing his hair, and going generally through a very niggling performance for nearly half an hour before d.i.c.k spoke, for the latter was enjoying the fun, as he called it, "of listening to old Taff muddling about in the dark, instead of jumping into bed at once."

At last, however, he spoke:

"I'm not asleep, Taff."

"Not asleep!" cried his brother. "What! haven't you been asleep?"

"No."

"What! not all the time I've been undressing?"

"No."

"Then it was very deceitful of you to lie there shamming."

"Didn't sham," said d.i.c.k.

"Yes, you did, and pretended that you were very ill."

"No, I didn't. I didn't want the doctor fetched."

"But why did you pretend to be asleep?"

"I didn't, I tell you. I only lay still and watched you fumbling about and taking so long to undress."

"Oh, did you?" said Arthur haughtily. "Well, now lie still, sir, and go to sleep. You are ill."

"No, I'm not," cried d.i.c.k cheerily; "only precious hot."

"Then if you are not ill you ought to be ashamed of yourself," said Arthur pettishly; "causing papa so much anxiety."

"Why, I think I behaved well," said d.i.c.k, chuckling to himself. "If I had taken you with me I should have given father twice as much trouble and worry."

"Taken me! Why, I should not have gone," said Arthur haughtily; "and if you had not been so fond of getting into low company all this would not have happened."

"Get out with your low company! There was nothing low about those two fishermen."

"I only call one of them a boy," said Arthur, yawning.

"Oh, very well: boy then. But I say, Taff, I wish you had been there."

"Thank you. I was much better at home."

"I mean while we were fishing. I caught such lovely mackerel, and a magnificent Polly something--I forget its name--all orange and gold and bronze, nine or ten pound weight."

"Stuff!" said Arthur contemptuously.

"But I did, I tell you."

"Then where is it?"

"Where is it? Oh, I don't know. When the steamer ran us down the fish and the tackle and all went overboard, I suppose. I never saw it again."

"Then you lost all the sprats," said Arthur sneeringly.

"Sprats! Get out, you sneering old Taff! You are disappointed because you didn't go with us. Why, there was a big turbot, and a sole or two, and a great skate with a p.r.i.c.kly back, and gurnards and dog-fish."

"And cats?" sneered Arthur.

"No, there were no cats, Taff. I say, though, I wish you had been there, only not when we got into trouble. I'll get Josh and Will to take you next time we go."

"Next time you go!" echoed Arthur. "Why, you don't suppose that papa will let you go again?"

"Oh, yes, I do," said d.i.c.k, yawning and speaking drowsily. "Because a chap falls off a horse once, n.o.body says he isn't to ride any more.

You'll see: father will let me go. I don't suppose--we should--should-- what say?"

"I didn't speak," said Arthur haughtily. "There, go to sleep."

"Go to sleep!" said d.i.c.k. "No--not bit sleepy. I--I'm--very comfortable, though, and--and--Ah!"

That last was a heavy sigh, and Arthur Temple lay listening to his brother's deep regular breathing for some minutes, feeling bitter and hurt at all that had taken place that day, and as if he had been thrust into a very secondary place. Then he, too, dropped asleep, and he was still sleeping soundly when d.i.c.k awoke, to jump out of bed and pull up the blind, so that he could look out on the calm sea, which looked pearly and grey and rosy in the morning sunshine. Great patches of mist were floating here and there, hiding the luggers and shutting out headlands, and everywhere the sh.o.r.es looked so beautiful that the lad dressed hurriedly, donning an old suit of tweed, the flannels he had worn the day before being somewhere in the kitchen, where they were hung up to dry.

"I'd forgotten all about that," said d.i.c.k to himself. "I wonder where Will Marion is, and whether he'd go for a bathe."

d.i.c.k looked out on the calm sea, and wondered how anything could have been so awful looking as it seemed the night before.

"It must have been out there," he thought, as he looked at the sun-lit bay, then at the engine-houses far up on the hills and near the cliff, and these set him thinking about his father's mission in Cornwall.

"I wonder whether father will begin looking at the mines to-day!" he said to himself. "I should like to know what time it is! I wonder whether Will Marion is up yet, and--Hallo! what's this?"

d.i.c.k had caught sight of something lying on the table beside his brother's neat little dressing-case--a small leather affair containing brush, comb, pomatum, and scent-bottles, tooth-brushes, nail-brushes, and the usual paraphernalia used by gentlemen who shave, though Arthur Temple's face was as smooth as that of a little girl of nine.

d.i.c.k took up the something, which was of leather, and in the shape of a porte-monnaie with gilt metal edges, and on one side a gilt shield upon which was engraved, in flourishing letters, "AT."

"Old Taffs started a cigar-case," said d.i.c.k, bursting into a guffaw. "I wonder whether--yes--five!" he added, as he opened the case and saw five cigars tucked in side by side and kept in their places by a leather band. "What a game! I'll smug it and keep it for ever so long. He ought not to smoke."

Just then the handle of the door rattled faintly, the door was thrust open, and as d.i.c.k scuffled the cigar-case into his breast-pocket Mr Temple appeared, coming in very cautiously so as not to disturb his sick son.

d.i.c.k did not know it, but his father had been in four times during the night to lay a hand upon his forehead and listen to his breathing, and he started now in astonishment.