THE DOCTOR'S MIXTURE.

BOOK I

CHAPTER X. IMPORTANT NEWS.

IN a very few days they had gone, and
Leadersfort deserted. The new
housekeeper came down, and Lady Buckstone's
decorators entered into possession. But,
in passing through town, Mr. Leader went
to speak about the great soldier question,
being led to the official by Mrs. Leader,
who saw fit that this measure of popularity
should be acquired—and received a
gracious answer. The news reached Lord
Shipton by special privilege, in a private
letter from Mr. Leader, and for days, while
the old mackintosh-gig was lying up in
ordinary in the inn-yard, he was going
about exhibiting this letter, which certified
as to his share in the matter, and beginning
"My dear Shipton." The Doctor
was very pleasant on this exhibition, asking
many a friend, "Had you to go through
'my dear Shipton?'" But days rolled on,
then weeks, then months. Public opinion
turned against Lord Shipton, led in a good-
humoured way by the Doctor.

"I told you, you were as sanguine as a
little boy. Ah, my dear Shipton, your
wish was father to that."

About this time, however, various
manufacturing districts about became disturbed;
there were some burnings of mills, and it
was felt advisable to have soldiers
distributed in a more scattered way over the
country. And the officials who had long
since forgotten the application of the
"great territorial proprietor," now recalled
the existence of the barracks—Lord Shipton
was the channel. He had the news—a
private letter. It was all true. The soldiers
had been got back again. It seemed
like the restoration of the Bourbons. It
was almost broken to the old people, who
were encouraged to utter a fervent "thank
God!" that they had been spared to see
the glorious day. It was considered that
Lord Shipton had done this business. "It
was a hard tussle," he said, "but we had
stuck to them too long to be rebuffed."
The only way was to come back again and
again, and so he did. He had always said
his plan was to worry them into it. A
lying election slander, as it was called,
was later circulated, that a future military
candidate had taken the whole credit of
this restoration through certain influence
at the Horse Guards. However, "the
soldiers were coming," and to Lord Shipton
all the honour, all the credit, and
also the talk, of the proceedings was due.
"He was willing," he said, "to tell the
whole thing frankly to any one." So he
did, over and over again: to the landlord,
Bull, to the clergyman, to the mill-
owner, to "Mr. M'Intyre," head of all
the great mart, and to many of lower
degree; for this was a very cheap person
of honour in his way, whom every one
could speak to; surprisingly accessible, not
to the poor and lower order—for whom he
had a just contempt—but to the middle-
class, who stand behind counters, and in
offices, and earned wages, and had legs,
arms, heads, or even good drink, that could
be in some way useful to him.

At the bar of the "Arms" the news
was told. Word had been received to fit
up the barracks hastily; the preparations
would be commenced to-morrow; the
local tradesmen would have the orders;
small tenders would be invited to-morrow;
trade was to be set agoing, everybody
enriched. All was owing to the
indefatigable patriotic Shipton. "We should
give you a testimonial, sir, for your services.
You have worked in the heats and
in the dews, hoping against hope."
Compliments which Lord Shipton accepted with
a modest self-abnegation.

"Oh, I declare," said the Doctor, good-
humouredly," I think he has well earned
the teapot to which the last speaker was
alluding. I don't say but that if this be
pressed, I wouldn't put in a claim, for
a big tea-urn myself. Do you follow me,
Lord Shipton?"

The latter gentleman laughed, but took
the hint. The Doctor looked dangerous.
"Indeed, I must say our friend, Findlater,
has been too modest all this time."

Then the Doctor went home with the
news, having taken "the lord," as he
called him, "down a peg."

"Ah, it's great news, my girls," he said.
"The place'll waken up now. We'll all
be gentlemen and ladies again."

"Oh, but Polly, dear, you must tell papa
not to be in too great a hurry. There are
dreadful wild men among officers, and she
must take time, mustn't she, father?"

"Oh, leave that to me. I'll take care
of you, Coaxy. Not one of my lads but
must produce his papers, clean and
genteel, to the satisfaction of Peter. Then,
sir, be he duke, or noble, or simple
gentleman, and not till then, shall he have my
daughter."

"But if I like him, Peter, dear, and if I