"He'll be back in ten minutes," said Daniel to himself, as he admitted a regular patient and once more closed the door. It was a quarter of an hour, though, before John Huish came to the house, asked if the doctor was at home, was shown into the waiting-room, and in due course came face to face with the keen, grey, big-headed, clever-looking little practitioner. "Ah, Huish, my dear boy! Glad to see you, John. Sit down. This is kind of you, to look me up. I've only just come back from a fishing trip--trouting. Old habit. Down this way?" "Well, no, doctor," said the young man hesitatingly. "The fact is, I came to consult you." "Glad of it. I was the first person who ever took hold of your little hand, and the tiny fingers clutched one of mine as if you trusted me. And you always kept it up--eh? I'm very glad." "Glad, sir?" "Of course I am," said the doctor, taking out his keys and unlocking a drawer. "What is it, my boy--a little cheque?" "Oh dear no, doctor." "Nothing serious, I hope." "I hope not. I thought I would consult you." "That's right, my lad. Well, what is it? Going to buy a horse-- speculate in the funds--try a yachting trip?" "My dear sir," said Huish, smiling, "you do not understand me. I am afraid I am ill." "Ill? You? Ill?" said the doctor, jumping up and laying his hands on the young man's shoulders as he gazed into his frank, earnest eyes. "Get up, Jack. You were almost my first baby, and I was very proud of you. Finest built little fellow I ever saw. There, put out your tongue"--he was obeyed--"let's feel your pulse"--this was done--"here, let me listen at your chest. Pull a long, deep breath;" and the doctor listened, made him pull off his coat and clapped his ear to his back, rumpled his shirt-front as he tapped and punched him all over, concluding by giving the visitor a back-handed slap in the chest, and resuming his seat, exclaiming: "Why, you young humbug, what do you mean by coming here with such a cock-and-bull story? Your physique is perfect. You are as sound as a bell. You are somewhere about thirty years old, and you are a deuced good-looking young fellow. What do you want?" "You take my breath away, doctor," said the young man, smiling. "I want to explain." "Explain away, then, my dear boy; but, for goodness' sake, don't be such an ass as to think the first time you are a bit bilious, or hipped, or melancholy, that you are ill. Oh, by the way, while I think of it, I had a letter from your people yesterday. They want me to have a run down to Shropshire." "Why not go?" "Again? I can't. Fifty people want me, and they would swear to a man if I went away that I was indirectly murdering them. But come, I keep on chattering. Now then, I say, what's the matter? In love?" The colour deepened a little on the white forehead, and the visitor replied quietly: