himself much mortification by receiving
this intimation as it is meant.

Polly coloured as she read this despatch:
"What does she mean, Peter?"

The Doctor's face was contorted with
fury. " How dar' she address such a
thing to me. Th' old meagre skin-and-weazle!
Th' old hungry scarecrow! Th'
old bit o' wizened frizzle! The miserable,
yellow- fevered,  jaundiced scarecrow! What
right has she to dar' send me such a
thing!" The Doctor was almost eloquent
in this strange vituperation. "Turn me
out of my child's house! Oh! that's the
game, is it! I'll make her grovel yet, I
will! If I was to scrape the flesh from
my bones, I'll rub her face in the very
clay off my boots! She don't know Peter
Findlater yet!"

"Ah, what can ye do, Peter," said his
daughter, " if they won't let you in?"

"Hold your tongue, you foolish child;
don't bother me! Where's my hat? I'll
put this right before the day grows old.
Here, give me my chapoo—I'll chapoo
them. Polly, pet, no woman ever put an
affront on Peter Findlater yet, that he
didn't get satisfaction from her or a male
deputy."

Polly looked at him with pride as she
handed him his " chapoo" and gloves; she
seemed like some lady-love arming her
knight for battle. " Ah, Peter, you were
always tender of the family name. Was
there ever such impertinence? And we
now connected with the family!"

"Collater'lly, my pet. Leave it to me,
I'll give my connexions a first lesson in
behaviour."

The Doctor strode out of the house and
made his way to Leadersfort. He did not
go up the grand avenue, which, as he said,
"could be raked from th' enceinte of the
fortress," every window in it commanding
a sweep a mile long. So he took a detour
and came up almost to the hall-door,
through some plantations, and skirting
under the shelter of the house, came to the
door, and gave a violent ring at the bell.
It was opened by one of the grand town
menials, who, as soon as he saw the visitor,
narrowed the opening promptly, and filled
the remaining space with his own portly
person.

"Mr. Leader in?" said the Doctor,
sweetly.

"Not at home," said the menial, bluntly.

"Mrs. Leader in?" said the Doctor,
making a step forward. " I'm Doctor
Findlater, my man. You're strange here, so
it's natural you shouldn't know I'm Mr.
Cecil's father-in-law. I'll just go up and
run my physician's eye over him."

"Sorry," said the menial in the same
blunt way, " but you can't. Family ain't
at home."

"Ah, God bless my soul," said the
Doctor, roughly; " don't be humbugging
me!" a favourite word, on whose second
syllable he always laid a stress. " Now,
stand aside, my good fellow; you're going
beyond your orders."

"That's just what I don't do," said the
menial with a grin. " And you're not to
come in here!" Then closed the door
suddenly.

The Doctor, furious and stupefied for a
moment, thought of rushing round to the
back and forcing an entrance, but that
seemed mean and housebreaker-like. Boiling
with rage he strode down the avenue,
not knowing " what next to be at."

"It's that little bleating cur Leader that's
turned tail. I'll hold him answerable for
his low parvin-you woman and her tricks.
I'll make his corns clatter in his boots; I'll
make his coat too big for him. Not one
of the whole kit of you," added the Doctor,
turning back to apostrophise the house,
"will be a match for Peter. Whisht, soho!"
He saw a little black figure coming across
a bypath through the fields, and stepped
behind a tree to wait for him.

Mr. Leader was coming along with a
worried look, for fresh expenses had been
reported as necessary up at his farm-yard,
and he was thinking over the question he
had oftenest put to himself, " Where am I
to get the money?" when the Doctor came
out in front of him like a brigand. The
little man was scared.

"Going to the house, Mr. Leader? Just
where I came from myself, and where I've
been once more——insulted!"

"Insulted, Doctor Findlater?"

"Yes, sir, in all the length and breadth
of the word. There's a limit to most
things, Mr. Leader, and by th' immortal
shako there shall be to this. I can't let
Mrs. Leader go pelting me and mine with
mud, without a protest, with my daughter
as a hostage in your house. Sir, my status
quo ante is altered, sir. I'll not put up
with it, and I must have satisfaction."

"Satisfaction!" faltered Mr. Leader,
edging away.

"Oh! don't be afraid—not in that sense.
But I look to you, sir, to vindicate me. I
shall not have doors shut in my face with