The Judas Tree by A. J. Cronin

and knelt beside his chair. She gripped his knee tightly.
    â€˜Don’t ever say you were a bother, Davie. What do you think would have happened to me if I hadn’t got you well?’
    His eyes filled with tears, he was still rather weak.
    â€˜What a perfect wife you’ll make me, Mary. Don’t think I haven’t noticed every single thing you’ve done.’
    Presently he was out, walking with her on the Esplanade, slowly at first, then at a faster pace. Finally he pronounced himself recovered, and ready to look out for a locum tenens that would carry him through the next few months. He still had a stitch in his side that worried him, but he did not speak of it. To complain now would be a poor way to reward their united efforts on his behalf. However, on the following Monday when he travelled by train to Winton to leave his name at the Medical Employment Agency, he had a sharp bout of pain, and decided it might be wise to look in at his old ward and have his chest gone over by Drummond.
    It was unexpectedly late when he arrived, back at Ardfillan, and Mary, who was serving a woman customer in the shop, read at once the dejection in his expression. The moment she was free, she came towards him, looking up into his face.
    â€˜No luck, Davie?’
    He tried to smile, but the attempt was scarcely a success.
    â€˜As a matter of fact I didn’t manage to get to the agency.’
    â€˜What went wrong, dear?’ she said quickly. She saw that he had something on his mind.
    At that moment the shop door pinged and a child came in to buy sweetie biscuits. He broke off, relieved by the interruption. What a cursed nuisance it all was, and what a damned sickly nuisance of a fellow they would all think him.
    â€˜Now, Davie?’ She turned to him.
    â€˜It’s hard to explain, Mary,’ he said feebly. ‘ I’ll tell you upstairs.’
    It was just on closing time. Hurriedly, she drew the blinds and turned off the lights, then followed him to the upper room. Her father and Aunt Minnie were there with him. He did not know how to begin. There was nothing for it, he had to reveal the reason for his visit to the hospital. Bending forward with elbows on his knees he kept looking at the floor.
    â€˜So when I got there Professor Drummond screened me – X-ray that is – and apparently I have a patch of pleurisy on my left lung.’
    â€˜Pleurisy!’
    â€˜It’s very localised,’ he said, refraining from mentioning Drummond’s insistence that neglect would induce tuberculosis. Striving to keep the despondency from his voice, he added: ‘But apparently it knocks out any possibility of a locum.’
    â€˜What’s to be done then?’ Douglas said, looking rather blue, while Mary sat silent, her hands pressed together.
    â€˜Well, I could go into the country … somewhere not too far away…’.
    â€˜No, Davie,’ Mary intervened nervously. ‘You’re not to leave us. We’ll look after you here.’
    He gazed at her dismally.
    â€˜Impose myself on you for another two months? Impossible, Mary. How can I hang around here, bone idle, just being a confounded nuisance, on top of all the fearful bother I’ve given you? I’ll… I’ll get a job on a farm.’
    â€˜No farmer in his right mind is going to employ a sick man,’ said Douglas. ‘Surely the doctor… the professor ordered something definite for ye?’
    There was a pause. Moray raised his head.
    â€˜If you must know, Drummond did say that I need a sea voyage – as a ship’s doctor of course. In fact, he insisted on ringing up the Kinnaird Line.… He knows someone there…’
    Now there was a prolonged silence. Finally the baker said:
    â€˜That sounds like sense at last. And if it’s a question of your health, lad, that’s all important. We would keep you here gladly. But would you get better, with the winter coming