about the country in this way." His
daughter was sitting with them.
"My dear Mr. Leader," said Mr. Morrison,
soothingly, "you must acquit me and
this gentleman, both. We are merely
ministerial, and have come by the express
direction of Mrs. Leader."
"That makes no difference. I suppose
I am admitted to be the head of the house?
All this is childishness, hunting me about,
and forcing me to sign things of this sort.
I really can't and won't do it. My son is
very ill up-stairs, and I am not going to
choose this moment to do such a heartless
act."
"It was by your directions, sir, that we
prepared these papers," said the solicitor,
gently. " It has been a very costly business.
And I really think, as we are all here
and ready, it would save much trouble later."
"I think so too, Leader. Come, now, as
a sensible, long-headed man, would it not
be better to do it now, of your own free
will, than later——"
"Be compelled to do it!" said his
daughter, looking coldly at Mr. Morrison.
"Papa, that is certainly a respectful
alternative."
Mr. Morrison was actually staggered by
this thrust, and for a moment knew not
what to say. He was still more confounded
when the door was opened suddenly, and
the figure of the Doctor was revealed.
"Oh, I see!" said Mr. Morrison, scornfully.
"You here! That explains it."
The Doctor, as it were, listened with
amazement, looked over at Mr. Leader with
wonder, then said: " Oh, this explains it,
does it? My appearance here, influence,
and the rest of it? 'Pon my honour! But
I'll make no remark, save this: that no
solicitor of mine should say that anything
I did was to be explained by a timid
subjection or subserviency to others. Is that
the interpretation or is it not, Mr. Leader?
Just put it to them."
"Oh, you needn't put it to me, sir," said
the solicitor, angrily. "My duties here
have been merely mechanical. I have only
acted up to my instructions."
"I quite understand that, sir," said the
Doctor, with grave courtesy; "and I regret
having included you in so sweeping a
remark. Its weight rests on this gentleman."
"This gentleman" coloured—bit his lips.
Mr. Leader, growing bolder every moment,
said: "There is too much of this sort
of thing, Randall—pushing and driving me
in this way. It's childish and absurd.
There's no hurry about this business."
"Another time will do just as well,"
said the solicitor, "only Mrs. Leader said
that you wished the thing to be pressed,
and we set all the clerks at work."
"Mrs. Leader said," murmured the Doctor,
as if to himself.
"Well, I don't know that I shall carry
the matter out at all."
Mr. Morrison gave a peculiar look at
Doctor Findlater, which that gentleman
returned heartily. That look of Mr. Morrison's
seemed compounded of mortification,
dislike, and menace. The Doctor's was
compounded of triumph and contempt.
"Papa," said the daughter, "Mr. Amos
need not take away the papers, need he?"
"Oh, they are not executed," said Mr.
Randall, hastily; "and it is the regular
custom."
"No matter," said Mr. Leader, with
growing dignity. "I might wish to look
through them. Mary will take care of
them."
The deeds were left. Quite repulsed,
the two gentlemen prepared to go. The
Doctor insisted on attending them down,
and showered verbal civilities on them.
"I'd go with you myself to the train," he
said, "only that——"
"Don't trouble yourself," said the young
man; "and if you take my advice, you
won't go out of your way for me. It will
bring you inconvenience."
"Then you would not be distressed on that
account," said the Doctor, smiling. "But
the real inconvenience is having to come
down all this way, and having to go back
without business done. Well, I cordially
go with Mr. Leader's view; in fact, we
were just talking it over before you came."
"Oh, I see. Now, look here, Mr. Findlater,"
said Randall, dropping behind, "if
you would take my advice——"
"A sensible proviso."
"I say, if you would take my advice, you
would be content with what you have done.
You have succeeded so far—secured this
wonderful prize. Your future game is pretty
transparent. But it won't answer, Mr.
Findlater. You will only run your head
against a granite wall."
The Doctor listened, as if he was receiving
news of great interest. "A Reuter's
telegram," he said. "Thank you cordially,"
he added. "I know you mean it kindly;
but still I'll chance it. It's hardly a fair
match, Katey and poor Peter versus Mr.
Randall Morrison and his sister? I suppose
it will come off by-and-bye. Adieu,
my friends!"