"Eh? Chair? Thanks," said the visitor, taking it by the back, swinging it round, and throwing one leg across as if it were a saddle, crossing his arms and resting his chin there--the while he stared rather enviously at the man before him. "Not much the matter, and you mustn't make me so that I can't get on. Got a chap staying with me, and we're going after the pheasants. I say, let me send you a brace." "You are very good," said the Doctor, smiling rather contemptuously, "but as I understand it they are not yet shot?" "Eh? Oh, no; but no fear of that. I can lick our keeper; pretty sure with a gun. Want to see my tongue and feel my pulse?" "Well, no," said the Doctor, with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "I can pretty well tell." "How?" "By your looks." "Eh? Don't look bad, do I?" "Rather." "Something nasty coming on?" said the young man nervously. "Yes; bad bilious attack, if you are not careful. You have been drinking too much beer and smoking too many strong cigars." "Not a bad guess," said the young man with a grin. "Last boxes are enough to take the top of your head off. Try one." "Thank you," was the reply, and a black-looking cigar was taken from the proffered case. "Mind, I've told you they are roofers." "I can smoke a strong cigar," said the Doctor, quietly. "You can? Well, I can't. Now then, mix up something; I want to be off." "There is no need to give you any medicine. Leave off beer and tobacco for a few days, and you will be all right." "But aren't you going to give me any physic?" "Not a drop." "Glad of it. But I say, the yokels down here won't care for it if you don't give them something." "I have found out that already. There, sir, I have given you the best advice I can." "Thankye. When am I to come again?" "Not until you are really ill. Not then," said the Doctor, smiling slightly as he rose, "for I suppose I should be sent for to you." "That's all then?" "Yes, that is all." "Well, send in your bill to the guv'nor," said the young man, renewing his grin; "he pays all mine. Nice morning, ain't it, for December? Soon have Christmas." "Yes, we shall soon have Christmas now," said the Doctor, backing his visitor toward the door. "But looks more like October, don't it?" "Yes, much more like October." "Steady, Beauty! Ah, quiet, will you!" cried the young man, as he mounted the restive cob. "She's a bit fresh. Wants some of the dance taken out of her. Morning.--Sour beggar, no wonder he don't get on," muttered the patient. "Take that and that. Coming those games when I'm mounting! How do you like that? Wanted to have me off." There was a fresh application of the spurs, brutally given, and after plunging heavily the little mare tore off as hard as she could go, while the Doctor watched till his patient turned a corner, and then resumed his walk up and down the garden--a walk interrupted by the visit. "Insolent puppy!" he muttered, frowning. "A miserable excuse."