"Yes, I read about that in the paper. Will you shake hands with me again? ... and now please take me round to my boy’s surgery. I’ve only seen a photograph of it up to the present." Side by side the wealthy Eastfolk doctor and the little sporting reporter walked out of Derby Crescent into the bustling Blackfriars Road, and presently wheeled out of that thoroughfare into Mount Street. "What a detestable district!" exclaimed Dr Mortimer as they were passing the Nathans’ fried fish shop, from which proceeded a by no means delectable odour of hissing horse fat. "It’s Jim’s country," said Koko. "Is he popular round here?" "They love him," said Koko. The old Doctor’s face just then was a study. He may have been thinking of Threeways, where he had resided for so many years without endearing himself to a single soul. "What sort of a living has my grandson made here?" he asked presently. "Oh, he has scraped along." Dr Mortimer cleared his throat. "When he was at Matthew’s he used to run up very extravagant tailors’ bills--indeed, he ran up extravagant bills of all kinds." "I know he did," said Koko. "I expect," continued Dr Mortimer, "he has rather missed that sort of thing over here." "He hasn’t had any new things since he’s been here," said Koko. The Doctor cleared his throat again. "I presume--er--I presume he had sufficient clothes?" "Oh yes--but last winter’s things had to do, you know." The Doctor was silent for some moments. The Jim who could make old things do was not the Jim he had known. Jim, up to last September, had always been fastidious about the cut of his coats, and most partial to fancy waistcoats. Not that the Doctor had really minded paying for them--in fact, he had liked to see Jim well-turned-out. What he had objected to was Jim’s utter disregard of even moderation in expenditure. And to think that this same Jim had been making last winter’s things "do"! The Doctor reflected a good deal on Koko’s replies. It occurred to him that if he had tried to understand Jim better in the past, this split would never have occurred. He had thundered rebukes at Jim much as an army sergeant would upbraid a refractory private, and Jim, in return, had simply been cheeky. Now, supposing he had reasoned with the lad in a kindly, gentle manner, would that not have proved more effectual than inditing fierce epistles to his grandson, when the latter was in town, or shouting a lecture to him across the telephone, as on that September morning of vivid remembrance? Jim had never known a mother’s care. He had been brought up by his grandfather, who had taken a pride in him such as a man takes in a handsome horse or dog. And so Jim ran wild, and, in the end, was expelled from Threeways. Such were the thoughts that coursed through the old Doctor’s mind as he paced down Mount Street by the side of George Somers. "Here we are," said Koko at length.