THE DOCTOR'S MIXTURE,

BOOK III.
CHAPTER VIII. AN UNEXPECTED VISIT.

THUS Mary Leader drove home the stout
logical nail she was hammering at. In a
moment they had gone up together to the
patient, with whom they found the Doctor
and gentle Katey on the watch. And then
Mr. Leader, speaking more to Katey than
to his son, told him of the new arrangements;
that he was not to harass or worry
himself; that all would be right; and that
he must get well at once, and prepare for
a journey.

The Doctor listened, but said nothing.
Katey silently pressed her second father's
hand; but her face was full of a soft
eloquence.

It was settled that Mr. Leader and his
daughter should stay with the invalid just
that one day, and return by the first train.
The Doctor would knock up a little dinner.
By-and-bye a very brilliant inspiration came
to help him. The judge of the county court
was sitting, and in some mysterious way
the Doctor had scraped acquaintance with
him, and was now on familiar terms. He
remembered Mr. Leader's old profession,
and instinctively divined his guest's yearning
after those old and happy days. The
former barrister's ears pricked up eagerly as
he heard this news. He would just drop in,
and see what was going on. The Doctor
wrote a few lines on a card, and sent it
to the judge; and Mr. Leader was then
led in with honour, and comfortably
placed. There he spent a delightful day,
listening to short processes until it came
to five o'clock, when he returned home.
Here a surprise awaited him. As he entered
the house he came full on the doctor, who
was rather excited.

"I was just going for you," he said.
"They want you here. I declare it's
scandalous, ludicrous, to be sending after a
private gentleman of fortune in this way!"

"Sending after me?" Mr. Leader said,
turning a little pale.

"Oh, yes. I don't wonder you're angry,
Mr. Leader. It's going beyond the
beyonds. A gentleman of private means
can't come down and see his only son
lying in the maw of death without having
attorneys and such like laid on his trail.
There's that Mr. Randall Morrison and a
man calling himself Amos in possession of
my drawing-room."

"Oh, it is—absurd!" This was the
strongest word Mr. Leader could bring
himself to use.

"Now, my dear sir," said the Doctor,
artfully, "now don't. It's not worth while
losing your temper with them. No attorney
born is worth it; well might my poor
uncle say, whenever he named one of the lot,
saving your presence."

"It really is going too far," said Mr.
Leader. "Such worry!"

He went up by himself, Doctor Findlater
refraining, from motives of delicacy,
from embarrassing the interview by his
presence. He found Mrs. Leader's brother,
and Mr. Amos, the solicitor, with a huge
bale of "skins," and that sort of anticipatory
manner of enjoyment which is often seen
on the face of one of these officials when
bringing something to sign, and which may
come of satisfaction at a long labour,
drafting, engrossing, &c., being happily
accomplished. Mr. Leader began at once,
nervously, and with a sort of "hectoring"
manner. "What is all this? What do
you want? It is really absurd being pursued