a little tray; and while the Doctor called
on Mr. Webber to give them a Bacchanalian
lyric, for which he was famous,
entitled CHAMPAGNE, he said, innocently,
"Katey, darling, come and mix for poor
papa. I declare, my sweet, they'd engage
you at the 'Lambra, or one of the great
music-halls, at a fabulous sal'ry, if we'd let
'em. See, your reverence, I'll bet you a
half-a-crown not one in the room gets such
a tumbler as I shall. We've the patent, eh,
dear?"

"Polly taught me," said Katey, pounding
up ice, and squeezing lemons, in a really
masterly style.

"Oh, yes! Polly has a touch of her own."

"If Miss Katey would help me," said
the young man, his eyes fixed on her pretty
fingers.

"'Pon my word, no," said the Doctor,
sternly. " I forbid it in toto. It's a respect
due to me as head of this house, and
I won't allow it now, seriously."

Katey whispered, eagerly. " Ah! Let
Polly, do; do, dear Peter?"

Rebellious glances were flashed at him
from the excited Polly, who would have
burst into tears on the spot. But the
Doctor had a determined way, even in
trifles. " Now for the song, Billy," he
cried. Who struck up at once without
further invitation:

"They talk of claret and tokay
    In cellar that has lain;
  I heed not what such wise ones say,
   Give me the bright champagne!
  They boast their yellow Rhenish wine
    That cheers both heart and brain,
  But I know a liquor more divine,
    Give me the bright champagne!
       (Chorus.) The bright champagne,
       Give me the bright champagne!"

"A little creak in the gear, Billy; oil
the cogs a little," cried the Doctor; " there's
the can!"

"And when some dark November day
   Is black with clouds and rain,
  I drive both clouds and rain away
   With a glass of bright champagne.
(Mournfully.) When sick with sorrow, worn with strife,
   Death comes to end my pain,
  Kind friends, ah! call me back to life.
(Briskly.) With a glass of bright champagne!
        Of bright champagne,
        A glass of bright champagne!"

The Doctor led the chorus with a silver
spoon, and made every one join. It was
then he discovered that his young patient
had " a real organ, round as a trumpet."
Then all rose to go away.

It was when the Doctor was having his
little "jokery" with Mr. Webber, that
Lord Shipton seized the opportunity to
waylay young Leader. " Now, what day
shall we expect you? Your room will be
always there. Just put a few things in a
bag—"

But the Doctor was wary. " Must
interdict the whole, my lord. I can't have
any junketing about for my patient, and
don't put temptation in his way. Now, I
forbid any junketing of this kind."

When Mr. Cecil was down at the garden-gate,
having bade good-night to all, the
Doctor placed himself in front of him, and,
putting up his finger in a warning fashion,
said:

"Now, see here, Master Cecil! You
didn't keep your word to me."

"How?" said the other, confused.

"Oh, any how. Now it wasn't fair, and
I must tell you plainly I won't have it.
There are my two bright, brilliant girls,
daughters to a physician, an M.R.C.S.I.,
and fit, I say it, to be wives to a duke
apiece. Put any of your cold blue blood
near 'em, and they'll hold their own."

"Oh, indeed they would."

"Very well. I know it well, and I don't
want to be told it by any man. Now you
know well enough," added the Doctor,
slowly, " that you, and your people, have
their own designs about you. There's
some high and dry bit of gentility marked
down for you by your mamma-in-law.
You can't deny it. Now, I saw what went
on to-night."

The young man got confused.

"My dear boy, we're both men of the
world, and I don't want the creatures' heads
to be filled with nonsense, and impossible
dreams. Surely I saw poor Katey myself,
hanging on the little stories you were telling,
and our games, and all that! No, no; in
future, I'll be your doctor, and tend you,
and cure you, and be as friendly as your
own mother; and I only wish you had
one. But it must not go beyond that.
Goodnight, my dear lad, and forgive my plain
speech; but Peter Findlater always spoke
his mind, and always will."

When the guests were gone, and the
Doctor came up-stairs to rejoin his family,
he found them silent, with eyes bent on the
floor. The brilliant Polly was standing up
with very flushed cheeks, and those full
lips, " like a burst cherry," pouting with
an unmistakable expression of " sulk " and
anger.

"Halloo!" cries the Doctor in real
wonder, " what's gone wrong? Any one
affronted you, Poll, my pet?"