Mrs. MacDermott looked suspiciously at him. "You changed your mind very quick," she said.
"I always change my mind quick," he replied.
They heard the noise of tapping overhead.
"That's your Uncle Matthew," said Mrs. MacDermott, rising from her chair.
"I'll go," John exclaimed hastily. "It's mebbe me he wants!"
He ran quickly up the stairs and entered his Uncle's room.
"I heard you all talking together," Uncle Matthew answered. "What's happened?"
"Oh, nothing! My story's been refused. That's all."
Uncle Matthew put out his hand and took hold of John's. "Are you very disappointed?" he said.
"There ought to have been a woman in it. You know, John, I told you that. There was no love in that story, and people like to read about love. That's natural. Sure, it's the beginning of everything!"
"I didn't know anything about it then, Uncle!..."
"No, but you do now ... a wee bit ... and you might have imagined it. You'd never be your father's son, if you hadn't a heart brimful of love. What else were you talking about?"
John told his Uncle of his proposal to go to London in search of experience.
"Aye, you'll have to do that some day," his Uncle replied, "but there's no hurry yet awhile. You'd better finish your schooling first, and you could go on writing here 'til you get more mastery of it. You might try to write a book, and then when it's done, you could go to London or somewhere. I'd be sorry if you went just now!..."
"Very good, son. I'd like you to be here when I ... when!..."
He did not finish his sentence, but the pressure of his hand on John's increased.
"Yes, Uncle Matthew!" John replied. He quickly changed the conversation. "You're looking a lot better," he said.
Uncle Matthew smiled. "Oh, aye," he replied, "I feel a lot better, too. I'll mebbe beat the doctor yet. He thinks I'm done for, but mebbe I'll teach him different!"
"You will, indeed. And why wouldn't you? You're young yet!"
Uncle Matthew did not reply to this. He turned on his pillow and glanced towards the dressing-table.
"Are you looking for anything?" John asked.
"Your ma read a wee bit to me in the night, after you went to bed. I thought mebbe you'd read a wee bit more to me. _Willie Reilly_, it was."
"I'll get it for you," John replied, going to the door. He called to his mother, and she told him that she had brought the book downstairs with her.