o differ from you, sir," said the professor in a loud voice, as
if he were addressing a class. "By the reports of the meteorological
society--"

"Hang the meteorological society, sir!" cried the lawyer, "I go by my
own knowledge."

"Pray, gentlemen!" cried Mrs Dunn, "you forget how weak the patient
is."

"Hush, Mrs Dunn," said the lad eagerly; "let them talk. I like to
hear."

"I beg pardon," said the professor; "and we are forgetting the object of
our visit. Lawrence, my boy, would you like to go to Brighton or
Hastings, or the Isle of Wight?"

"No," said the lad sadly, "it is too much bother."

"To Devonshire, then--to Torquay?"

"No, sir. I went there last winter, and I believe it made me worse. I
don't want to be always seeing sick people in invalid chairs, and be
always hearing them talk about their doctors. How long shall you be
gone, sir?"

"How long? I don't know, my lad. Why?"

The boy was silent, and lay back gazing out of the window in a dreamy
way for some moments before he spoke again, and then his hearers were
startled by his words.

"I feel," he said, speaking as if to himself, "as if I should soon get
better if I could go to a land where the sun shone, and the sea was
blue, and the sweet soft cool breezes blew down from the mountains that
tower up into the clear sky--where there were fresh things to see, and
there would be none of this dreadful winter fog."

The professor and the lawyer exchanged glances, and the latter took a
great pinch of snuff out of his box, and held it half-way up towards his
nose.

Then he started, and let it fall upon the carpet--so much brown dust,
for the boy suddenly changed his tone, and in a quick excited manner
exclaimed, as he started forward:

"Oh! Mr Preston, pray--pray--take me with you when you go."

"But, my dear boy," faltered the professor, "I am not going now. I have
altered my plans."

"Then I must stop here," cried the boy in a passionate wailing
tone--"stop here and die."

There was a dead silence once more as the lad covered his face with his
thin hands, only broken by Mrs Dunn's sobs as she laid her head upon
the back of the chair and wept aloud, while directly after Mr Burne
took out his yellow handkerchief, prepared for a blow, and finally
delivered himself of a mild and gentle sniff.

"Lawrence!"

It was the deep low utterance of a strong man who was deeply moved, and
as the boy let fall his thin white fingers from before