"While you, sir," cried Sir John angrily, "you're a regular molly, and do nothing but coddle yourself over the fire and read. It's read, read, read, from morning till night, and when you do go out, it's warm wrappers and flannel and mackintoshes. Why, hang it all, boy! you go about as if you were afraid of being blown over, or that the rain would make you melt away." "I am very sorry, father," said the youth piteously; "I'm afraid I am not like other boys." "Not a bit." "I can't help it." "You don't try, Jack. You don't try, my boy. I always had the best of accounts about you from Daneborough. The reports are splendid. And, there, my dear boy, I am not angry with you, but it is very worrying to see you going about with lines in your forehead and this white face, when I want to see you sturdy and--well, as well and hearty as I am. Why, Jack, you young dog!" he cried, slapping him on the shoulder, and making the lad wince, "I feel quite ashamed of myself. It isn't right for an old man like I am." "You old, father!" said the lad, with more animation, and a faint flush came in his cheeks. "Why you look as well and young and strong as--" "As you ought to be, sir. Why, Jack, boy, I could beat you at anything except books--walk you down, run you down, ride, jump, row, play cricket, shoot, or swim." "Yes, father, I know," sighed the lad. "But I'm ashamed to do anything of the kind when I see you moping like a sick bird in a cage." "But I'm quite well, father, and happy--at least I should be if you were only satisfied with me." "And I do want to see you happy, my boy, and I try to be satisfied with you. Now look here: come out with me more. I want to finish my collection of the _diptera_. Suppose you help me, and then we'll make another collection--birds say, or--no, I know: we'll take up the British fishes, and work them all. There's room there. It has never been half done. Why, what they call roach vary wonderfully. Even in two ponds close together the fish are as different as can be, and yet they call them all roach. Look here--we'll fish and net, and preserve in spirits, and you'll be surprised how much interest you will find in it combined with healthy exercise." "I'll come with you, father, if you wish it," said the lad. "Bah! That's of no use. I don't want you to come because I wish it. I want you to take a good healthy interest in the work, my boy. But it's of no use. I am right; you have worked too hard, and have read till your brain's getting worn out. There, I am right, Jack. You are not well." "Doctor Instow, Sir John," said a servant, entering. "Humph! lost no time," muttered the baronet. "Where is he, Edward?" "In the drawing-room, Sir John." "I'll come. No; show him in here." "Father," whispered the lad excitedly, and a hectic spot showed in each cheek, "why has Doctor Instow come here?" "Because I sent for him, my boy." "But not to see me?" said the lad excitedly. "Indeed I am quite well."