"Well, for my part, I think him a donkey, and do not care whether he comes or not." "Caroline! Caroline! Is this the return you make me for all I have done for you, and planned and schemed on my bended knees! ungrateful girl!" said Lady Inskip plaintively, as if she was going to cry. "Oh, don't go on, ma, any more. We know all that! Laura can have the white-choker if she likes: I will cultivate Tom." "Bless you my child!" said the mother, "you are rash and impetuous, but you have a good heart." Volume 1, Chapter X. A CALL AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. Doctor Jolly trotted along the road from Bigton to Hartwood, with Huz and Buz his brother, cantering at his horse's heels, and making short predatory excursions every now and then into neighbouring gardens and farmyards on the way, to the apoplectic scaring and bewilderment of sundry unhappy fowls and ducks. In about half an hour, as he always rode at a sharp pace, he had reached The Poplars to make his weekly visit. "How-de-do!" he shouted to Tom, when he was half a mile off, seeing him at the gate; and presently the stout doctor was dismounting from his quadruped with extreme difficulty, owing to the still painful gout, and limping up the steps of the dowager's mansion. "So you are here again, are you?" observed that lady with her customary acrimony, from the open window of the dining-room, which faced the entrance gate. "Why, you're always running here, now; you'd better come and live here at once; it would, at all events, save your gouty legs some exertion." "Bless my soul! Mrs Hartshorne, why you are looking as blooming as a daisy. I wish I could wear like you, madam; why you must be sixty, if you are a day!" "I'll outlast you at all events, Mister Jolly," said the old lady, as our friend the doctor, who hated being called "Mister" instead of by his medical title, walked into the house. "And how's Susan?" he asked, as he entered the room. "There she is with her governess, and you can see for yourself," snappishly returned the dowager, walking out, and leaving the doctor with Miss Kingscott and her charge. Susan looked greatly improved, and timidly offered her hand as he went up to her in his hearty way. "And how are we to-day?" he said kindly. She, to his great astonishment, not only looked him in the face, but answered him, which she had seldom or ever done before. "Very well, I thank you," she said, quietly. It was not much, certainly; not more, perhaps, than a well-trained parrot might have said, but, then, it was a decided improvement to her former apathy. She immediately afterwards, however, left the room, as she heard Markworth playing on the organ up-stairs; and Miss Kingscott and the doctor were alone. "By Gad, madam!" exclaimed the doctor, as soon as she had gone--he did not mean to give Miss Kingscott "brevet rank," but he always addressed every woman, young or old, as "Madam."