Morgan consented to consider this. "But you'll be honest," he demanded; "you won't pretend you haven't heard?"
"I'm much more likely to pretend I have."
"But what can you hear of, this way, stuck in a hole with us? You ought to be on the spot, to go to England—you ought to go to America."
"One would think you were my tutor!" said Pemberton.
Morgan walked on, and after a moment he began again: "Well, now that you know that I know and that we look at the facts and keep nothing back—it's much more comfortable, isn't it?"
"My dear boy, it's so amusing, so interesting, that it surely will be quite impossible for me to forego such hours as these."
This made Morgan stop once more. "You do keep something back. Oh, you're not straight—I am!"
"Why am I not straight?"
"Oh, you've got your idea!"
"My idea?"
"Why, that I probably sha'n't live, and that you can stick it out till I'm removed."
"You are too clever to live!" Pemberton repeated.
"I call it a mean idea," Morgan pursued. "But I shall punish you by the way I hang on."
"Look out or I'll poison you!" Pemberton laughed.
"I'm stronger and better every year. Haven't you noticed that there hasn't been a doctor near me since you came?"
"I'm your doctor," said the young man, taking his arm and drawing him on again.
Morgan proceeded, and after a few steps he gave a sigh of mingled weariness and relief. "Ah, now that we look at the facts, it's all right!"
