"There can be no 'must' about it: and I doubt if he is to be brought round. Mr. Blair has not naturally a large amount of what we call stamina, and this illness has laid a very serious hold upon him. It would be something in his favour if the mind were at ease: which of course it cannot be in his circumstances." "Now look here--you just say outright he is going to die," stormed the Squire. "Say it and have done with it. I like people to be honest." "But I cannot say he is. Possibly he may recover. His life and his death both seem to hang on the turn of a thread." "And there's that squealing young image within earshot! Could Blair be got down to my place in the country? You might come with him if you liked. There's some shooting." "Not yet. It would kill him. What we have to fight against now is the weakness: and a hard fight it is." The Squire's face was rueful to look at. "This London has a reputation for clever physicians: you pick out the best, and bring him here with you to-morrow morning. Do you hear, sir?" "I will bring one, if you wish it. It is not essential." "Not essential!" wrathfully echoed the Squire. "If Blair's recovery is not essential, perhaps you'll tell me, sir, whose is! What is to become of his poor young wife if he dies?--and the little fellow with the doll?--and that cross-grained puppet in white? Who will provide for them? Let me tell you, sir, that I won't have him die--if doctors can keep him alive. He belongs to me, sir, in a manner: he saved my son's life--as fine a fellow as you could set eyes on, six feet two without his boots. Not essential! What next?" "It is not so much medical skill he requires now as care, and rest, and renovation," spoke the doctor in his calm way. "Never mind. You take a physician to him, and let him attend him with you, and don't spare expense. In all my life I never saw anybody want patching up so much as he wants it." The Squire shook hands with him, and went on round the corner. I was following, when the doctor touched me on the shoulder. "He has a good heart, for all his hot speech," whispered he, nodding towards the Squire. "In talking with him this evening, when you find him indulging hopes of Blair's recovery, _don't encourage them_: rather lead him, if possible, to look at the other side of the question." The surgeon was off before I recovered from my surprise. But it was now my turn to run after him. "Do you know that he will not get well, sir?" "I do not know it; the weak and the strong are alike in the hands of God; but I think it scarcely possible that he can recover," was the answer; and the voice had a solemn tone, the face a solemn aspect, in the uncertain light. "And I would prepare friends always to meet the worst when it is in my power to do so." "Now then, Johnny! You were going to take the wrong turning, were you, sir! Let me tell you, you might get lost in London before knowing it."