THE DOCTOR'S MIXTURE

BOOK I.

CHAPTER XXVII. GOING TO THE PICNIC.

IT was a bright, sunny day, and the
barouche and wedding greys were at the
door. It was rather a "shaky" vehicle,
but the driver, with white cotton gloves on,
had an air of pride. It was well known to
the neighbours that the Findlaters were
taking the young man, and quite a little
crowd had assembled to see "Miss Polly's
beau" borne off in triumph. The preparations
took a long time. Suddenly the
Doctor emerged in a great white hat, new
gloves, his fingers stretched out fanlike,
and repaired next door. He had gone,
people in neighbouring windows remarked,
to bring out his prey.

The Doctor was prepared for what he
was to meet, having seen Mr. Morrison enter
not long before. He found him and the
young man together, the latter evidently
"dressed to the nines." The Doctor began
cheerfully and heartily. "No, it's no use,
Mr. Morrison. Pleasure first and business
later. As his physician I order change of
air. I take it all on myself."

"I am sure you do," said the other, with
a sneer. "But still that can make no
difference. We have business to go over
today. Don't let us detain you from your
pleasure party."

"I wish we'd a seat for you, Mr. Morrison,
we'd squeeze you into the rumble."

"Me!" said the other coldly. "No!
scarcely. I think not."

"Inside, then, is out of the question;
we're full, sir. Come, Mr. Cecil, I see you're
dressed and all; put off agent and agency
business till to-morrow. Oh, you're booked
to me, the place kept and all; Mr. Morrison
hasn't a power of attorney from your father
to keep you in leading-strings, that I'll
swear. The colonel is his deputy, and he
wishes all his officers to go with the band."

"There you hear, Morrison, I must go
with the rest. You've no right to interfere
with me, and I will go."

''Interfere with you, no. Do as you
please; only, on another occasion, don't
come troubling me with your affairs and
papers. It mayn't be so convenient then."

"Well, I declare, Mr. Morrison, you are
commander-in- chief; schoolmaster, parent,
and guardian combined. Let the poor schoolboy
have a holiday, do. Ah, I think he is
too old for that: a little. Holding Her
Majesty's commission, and not to take a
little outing."

"Oh! to be sure," said Mr. Morrison,
"another day will do as well. We can put
off business. In fact, Doctor Findlater, I
think I shall go myself!"

This news gave the Doctor a shock; but
at that moment the young man went
eagerly to the window. "They're coming
on," he said.

"In that case we had best be off," said
the Doctor, and hurried his protégé out,
leaving Mr. Randall Morrison behind.

The two girls were charming on that sun-
shiny morning, as they took their seats in
the open carriage: Polly much flushed with
the heat of the day and of dressing: all her
gauzes, and laces, and white muslin floating
about her as if— the Doctor's remark— as if
hung on the branches of some tree, and
fluttering there in the breezes. Her eyes
danced and sparkled; she could not look at
one without rippling into smiles. Katey,
less bacchante-like in her dress, had acquired
from her excitement an intensely
earnest and spiritual air; her smile was of
the sweetest; and the young man who sat