man ever meddled with one of the
Findlaters — one o' th' Irish branch I mean, sir
—that didn't wish himself unborn.
Goodnight!"

CHAPTER XXII. PRESTIGE OF THE DOCTOR.

ON the next day, towards evening, the
town had, indeed, important things to talk
of. In every house it was known that
the most dramatic series of incidents that
could possibly be conceived had taken
place. Captain Johns, of the regiment,
had that morning waited on Captain
Hickey, of the same corps, on behalf
of Doctor Findlater, demanding a full
apology for some words used the night
before! He had waited on that gentleman
at six o'clock in the morning, begged to be
referred to a friend, in the usual course,
and had with difficulty consented to a delay
of one hour, to give time for consideration.
Doctor Findlater had desired that everything
should be arranged finally before
breakfast time, as he meant business, and
did not wish even a whisper to get abroad,
which "might spoil sport." Captain
Hickey, it was then said, had made protests
against the absurdity of the whole
proceeding, calling it an anachronism, and
adding it was ludicrous that he should be
called to account for what he had never
intended to do, that is, affront Doctor
Findlater. On the contrary, he had put up with
a great deal from that gentleman.

"Did you ever hear of such an excuse
from a fellow with a heart, nominally, sir,
that of a man? I believe that it's a jack-
snipe's that has got into him by mistake.
A fellow excuses himself from giving the
satisfaction of a gentleman, because he was
insulted himself! Why, he ought to thank
me on his bended knees for giving him the
chance of wiping the mud off his clothes."

Before noon the whole affair had been
settled, and the Doctor had related the
story for about the twentieth time, and
with the most minute and circumstantial
details. He tried all his special demurrers
on Johns. Why should he fight with a
man who had not injured him? Did he
refuse? No; but he could not agree to fight.
He'd fight at once on a just cause. Well,
then, of course, he must apologise. No.
If any offence was named, and that he considered
an offence, he would do so at once.
"Did ye ever in your life," cried the Doctor,
"hear of such low hair-splitting, or such
Old Bailey dodges? I declare it sickens
me — makes me ashamed of being a man.
But when he came to that, I walked up to
pay him a visit myself, and just trampled
through all his cobwebs. Just put it to
him, did he refuse, yes or no, and faith, sir,
he said 'Yes!'"

There was much excitement in the regiment
when the officers met at lunch. Mr.
Hickey appeared, as usual, quite unconcerned,
and eat with an excellent appetite.

"You seem hungry, considering all you
went through this morning," said the
colonel, in great agitation. "I wonder
how you can sit down here with gentlemen,
after dragging the honour of the regiment
through — the — the mire."

"That is a serious charge, Colonel
Bouchier, and should not come from you."

"Don't speak to me in that way, sir.
You shall find more shall come from me
yet. A court-martial, if I live till next
week."

"You are entitled to bring me to court-
martial; you will, of course, act at your
own discretion. I invite it, I challenge it."

"Challenge!" the colonel said with a
sneer. "The less you say about that the
better."

There was a loud laugh at this.

"The rules of the service say sufficient
about that," the other said, coolly, "and I
am sure Colonel Bouchier does not invite
me to break them by accepting——"

"I know also what the rules say!" roared
the colonel, in a passion. "That an officer
and gentleman is not to sit down under an
insult."

"Exactly; but there was no insult given
or received. An explanation set it all to
rights."

"An explanation!" sneered the colonel.
"You hear this fellow!"

He could find nothing more to say but,
"Very well, very well, sir! We'll see
about this!"

Mr. Hickey presently retired, and
almost immediately appeared the Doctor,
the hero of the day, who entered with an
absent, sad, and downcast air. He was
received with acclamation.

"Well, boys! This is disastrous; but a
man can only do his best. You know at
the bull-fights they sometimes get hold
of a poor soft beast, and you may prod
him and scorch him, and pull out his
whiskers, and prick his nostrils with a
needle, and nothing will make the brute
fight. If a fellow says he meant nothing,
and meant no harm, never intended to
offend a child — why the ground is cut
from under you. Well. Of course we'd
have the good old remedy of a kicking, or