clarety film. A comic twinkle came into the
moist eyes. "Ah! I see," he said.

She coloured up. "No, no—indeed, sir, it is
not that."

"Not what?" he asked, with pretended
astonishment. "Ah, little rogue! Come along.
Cab here. All right. John, whisper Mr. Tilney
that I'll be back in twenty minutes."

Captain Diamond, travelling about in his cab
seeking his friend Gilpin, had come unsuccessful
to his friend's rooms. He was met at the
door by the porter, with great disquiet in his
face. "The poor gentleman is getting worse,
sir. I was going off to you, sir; for the apothecary
says he seems to be in a sinking state like,
and we must get in a doctor at once."

"Run then, like a good lad," said the
captain. "Or take my cab."

The porter got his hat, opened the swinging
door, and at that instant held it back, for
another cab had driven up rapidly, and a gentleman
with a white tie, and dressed for a party,
had jumped out. Had also helped out a little
lady. The captain looked wistfully.

"Hope they're going to have no fiddling or
that sort of thing to-night! Poor Tillotson——"

The florid gentleman, dressed for the party,
had come up to him. "I want to see Mr.
Tillotson. Does he——"

"Oh, uncle," said the little girl, running to
him.

"Why, bless my soul!" said the captain, in
the blankest astonishment.

"Uncle, uncle," she went on, "this is Sir
Duncan Dennison, and he is come from his
dinner-party. Oh, so kindly! And, uncle, he has
promised to make him well again."

"If it's a nervous fever, that is," said he;
"come, I hope there's no mistake."

"The Queen's physician, eh?" said the
captain, half stupified, and peering close into his
face, as if that would have satisfied him of his
identity.

"Come, come," said the other, impatiently
(he felt the east wind at that moment through
his cambric shirt, and began to think he had
done a ridiculous thing); "I can't waste time
here. Show me this fever!"

He was taken up and brought in to the
patient. He studied the poor wasted, tossing
figure before him critically. He put his head
on one side, looked round at a crevice over the
door with extraordinary vacancy of expression,
then, with the same curious vacancy, smoothed
some creases out of his dress-trousers.

The captain, peering well forward, and
supported on the shorter of his two limbs, gazed at
each of these proceedings as if they were to be
part of the cure. "Well, doctor?" he said,
nervously, when they had been all a reasonable
time in silence. "Well, doctor?"

But he was motioned into silence. Finally,
Sir Duncan looked at his watch. "Lord bless
me! How late it is! I must go now."

"Well, doctor," said the captain, still peering,
"what d'ye say?"

"Give me a pen, some one," said Sir Duncan,
"and don't speak while I am writing. I am
going to order him strong poisons, and a few
grains, you know, make all the difference."

The captain was secretly aghast at this declaration,
the bearing of which he could not understand,
but he assumed—as indeed this amiable old
warrior always did—that the fault was with his own
dull faculties, and, smiling on Sir Duncan in
cordial approval of his alarming practice, limped
over to the bed.

"Get that done," cried Sir Duncan, "at once.
Good night, little lady. You brought me out
in an awful night. No matter; you were
right, and I wouldn't have missed it for a fifty-
pound note. It's the true stuff."

"Oh, sir, but will he recover?"

"We'll see in the morning. I'll bring Slader
with me from the hospital. Like to see what
he can say to this. It'll be a slap in the face
to him. It's positively beautiful. And, my
dear child, you didn't deceive me—this is the
true thing? Good night."

He was gone. Perfectly bewildered, the
captain stood looking after him.

"What did he say, my dear? I'm a little
hard o' hearing."

"I don't know, nunkey," she said, somewhat
troubled. "I couldn't make him out. But he's
to be here in the morning."

"Ah, yes, yes, the creature!" said the
captain. "And, my dear, did you remark, he
seemed greatly pleased?"

"Oh yes, nunkey," she said, with pleasure,
"so he was; but," she added, falling into
despondency again, "it was more with me,
I'm afraid, nunkey. But didn't he tell you,
when you were with him in the room?"

"Ah, to be sure," said the captain, with
great boldness and readiness. "He said he was
in a fine way to recover, and would be on his
legs and driving out in a job-carriage on Sunday
next."

"Did he say that?" she said, joyfully.

"On my oath he did," the captain said,
earnestly. "Honour bright. And now, little
woman, we may go. He is in good hands
here, I know, with Mrs. Pidger. I hope they
keep you comfortable here, Mrs. Pidger, and if
there's anything you like, I hope you'll say so."
The captain's fingers had drawn out the little
steel bag purse.

Going home in the cab (it was getting on to
twelve), the captain said: "You must be tired,
pet. Ye did a wonderful deal for that poor
fellow—and a poor old botch like me, I couldn't
have managed it—no, indeed. Let Tom alone
for never helping a soul. Mine's the will but
not the way—eh, pet?"

"Nonsense, uncle," she said, putting her
face forward to kiss him.

"Ah, you little cosherer," said the captain.
"You have eyes, though, and can see. Are
you cold? Muffle yourself up. Get on, sir,"
said the captain, with assumed fierceness.
"You're not going the regulation pace. D'ye
hear me? And I tell you what," the