worried look. It seemed to me about this time that everybody had.
“Bertie,” she said, “what are your immediate plans?”
“How do you mean? I’m dining tonight with—”
“No, no, I don’t mean tonight. Are you busy for the next few days? But, of course you are not,” she went on, not waiting for me to answer.
“You never have anything to do. Your whole life is spent in idle—but we can go into that later. What I came for this afternoon was to tell you that I wish you to go with your poor Uncle George to Harrogate for a few weeks. The sooner you can start, the better.”
This appeared to me to approximate so closely to the frozen limit that I uttered a yelp of protest. Uncle George is all right, but he won’t do. I was trying to say as much when she waved me down.
“If you are not entirely heartless, Bertie, you will do as I ask you. Your poor Uncle George has had a severe shock.”
“What, another!”
“He feels that only complete rest and careful medical attendance can restore his nervous system to its normal poise. It seems that in the past he has derived benefit from taking the waters at Harrogate, and he wishes to go there now. We do not think he ought to be alone, so I wish you to accompany him.”
“But, I say!”
“Bertie!”
There was a lull in the conversation.
“What shock has he had?” I asked.