"Not exactly for that, for my health is always good, but I thought it might be a pleasant place to spend an unexpected holiday that has been granted me." "Pleasant!" repeated Bowman scornfully. "If you can find anything pleasant at St. Victor, you will have greater luck than I." "Is Claudine in the kitchen?" asked the sick man. "Claudine!" he called, raising his voice. "Yes, monsieur," answered the little handmaid, appearing at the door. "Go to the baker's and buy a loaf of bread. Here is money. Is there any tea left?" "Yes, monsieur." "Then buy a cupful of milk and half a pound of sugar. I am almost famished. A cup of tea and some toast will put new life into me." Claudine departed on her errand, and Sinclair once more fixed his eyes on Fred. There was a question he very much wished to ask, but in Bowman's presence he could not do it safely. CHAPTER XXIX. FRED TAKES THE FIRST STEP. "And so you come from New York?" Sinclair repeated, for the want of something better to say. "When did you leave the city, may I ask?" "On Tuesday." "Then you came directly here?" "Yes, I came directly here." "You must then have heard of St. Victor before starting." "Yes." "Yet I fancy it is so obscure that its existence can be known to very few in the great city." "I presume you are right. I was recommended to come here by a friend." "Ah!" commented James Sinclair, beginning to think he was right, though it seemed to him very strange that Mr. Wainwright should have selected so young a messenger. "I should like to see New York once more." "Who wouldn't?" interposed Bowman impatiently. "In New York you can _live._ Here in St. Victor one can only vegetate." "Don't you expect to go back to New York some day, Mr. Sinclair?" asked Fred. "I don't know; I hope so." "When our business in Canada is completed," said Bowman, "we shall probably both go back." "Are you going to sleep here to-night, Bowman?" asked Sinclair. "No, I think not. I have taken a room in the hotel." "You must do as you like, of course, but it is lonely for me. Besides I might need assistance." "Let the girl stay here, then. I should make a miserable sick nurse. I will ask young Fenton, here, if it is reasonable to expect me to bury myself in such a cheerless place when it will do no good." Fred was disgusted with the man's selfishness. "If I had a friend sick," he said, "I think I would be quite willing to keep him company." "You say so now, but wait till the time comes." "Your words, Mr. Fenton," said Sinclair, "embolden me to ask you a favor." "Name it," said Fred, in a tone of kindly encouragement. "I spend all my time alone, except when Claudine is ministering to my wants. Your time is hardly likely to be very much occupied in this dull place. Can't you spare me an hour or two at your convenience during the day?" "You have promised to go hunting with me tomorrow," interrupted Bowman.