Dr. Rane came in, wiping his brow: the day was hot, and he tired. He had walked from a farm-house a mile beyond the Ham. A strangely weary look sat on his face. "Don't trouble, Bessy; I have had breakfast. Ah, Richard, how d'ye do?" "You have had breakfast!" repeated Bessy. "At the farm?" "Yes; they gave me some." "Oh dear! won't you take a bit of the ham, or some of the mushrooms, Oliver? They are so good. And I waited." "I am sorry you should wait. No, I can't eat two breakfasts. You must eat for me and yourself, Bessy." Dr. Rane sat down in his own chair at the table, turning it towards Richard, and took up the letters. Selecting the one from Mr. Lynch, he was about to open it when Bessy, who was now beginning her breakfast, spoke. "Oliver, I have told Richard about it--what we think of doing?" Dr. Rane's glance went out for a moment to his brother-in-law's, and met it. He made the best of the situation, smiled gaily, and put down the letter unopened. "Are you surprised, Richard?" he asked. "Very much, indeed. Had a stranger told me I was going to leave Dallory myself--and, indeed, that may well come to pass, with this strike in the air--I should as soon have believed it. Shall you be doing well to go, do you think, Rane?" "Am I doing well here?" was the doctor's rejoinder. "Not very, I fear." "And, with this strike on, it grows worse. The wives and children fall ill, as usual, and I am called in; but the men have no money to pay me with. I don't intend to bring Bessy to dry bread, and I think it would come to that if we stayed here----" "No, no; not quite to that, Oliver," she interposed. But he took no notice of her. "Therefore I shall try my fortune elsewhere," continued Dr. Rane. "And if you would return thanks to the quarter whence the blow has originated, you must pay them to your stepmother, Richard. It is she who has driven me away." Richard was silent. Dr. Rane broke the seal of Mr. Lynch's letter, and read it to the end. Then, laying it down, he took up the one from America, and read that. Bessy, looking across, tried to gather some information from his countenance; but Dr. Rane's face was one which, in an ordinary way, was not more easily read than a stone. "Is it favourable news, Oliver?" she asked, as he finished the long letter, and folded it. "It's nothing particular. Jones runs on upon politics. He generally gives me a good dose of _them_." "Oh, I meant from Mr. Lynch," replied Bessy. "Is he coming?" "Mr. Lynch declines." "Declines, Oliver!" "Declines the negotiation. And he is not much better than a sneak for giving me all this trouble, and then crying off at the eleventh hour," added Dr. Rane. "It _is_ bad behaviour," said Bessy, warmly. "What excuse does he make?" "You can see what he says," said Dr. Rane, pushing the letter towards her. Bessy opened it, and read it aloud for the benefit of Richard.