“Not a word, if you forbid it. At the same time, you must see that he'll have to hear it all later on.”
“I suppose so,” muttered Tom, moodily, and leaned his head thoughtfully on his hand. But one half-hour back and he would have told Conyers why he desired this concealment; he would have declared that his father, caring more for his services than his future good, would have thrown every obstacle to his promotion, and would even, if need were, have so represented him to Conyers that he would have appeared utterly unworthy of his interest and kindness; but now not one word of all this escaped him. He never hinted another reproach against his father, for already a purer spring had opened in his nature, the rocky heart had been smitten by words of gentleness, and he would have revolted against that which should degrade him in his own esteem.
“Good night,” said Conyers, with a hearty shake of the hand, “and don't forget your breakfast engagement tomorrow.”
“What 's this?” said Tom, blushing deeply, as he found a crumpled bank-note in his palm.
“It's your fee, my good fellow, that's all,” said the other, laughingly.
“But I can't take a fee. I have never done so. I have no right to one. I am not a doctor yet.”
“The very first lesson in your profession is not to anger your patient; and if you would not provoke me, say no more on this matter.” There was a half-semblance of haughtiness in these words that perhaps the speaker never intended; at all events, he was quick enough to remedy the effect, for he laid his hand good-naturedly on the other's shoulder and said, “For my sake, Dill,--for my sake.”
“I wish I knew what I ought to do,” said Tom, whose pale cheek actually trembled with agitation. “I mean,” said he, in a shaken voice, “I wish I knew what would make _you_ think best of me.”
“Do you attach so much value to my good opinion, then?”
“Don't you think I might? When did I ever meet any one that treated me this way before?”
The agitation in which he uttered these few words imparted such a semblance of weakness to him that Conyers pressed him down into a chair, and filled up his glass with wine.
“Take that off, and you 'll be all right presently,” said he, in a kind tone.
Tom tried to carry the glass to his lips, but his hand trembled so that he had to set it down on the table.