The sunshine was coquetting with the little wire, and the great oaks and elms were surveying the flirtation with affected indifference, one bright September morning, when Mr James Mortimer, the Doctor’s grandson, who was known among his hospital intimates as the "Long ’Un," having breakfasted in trousers, shirt, and dressing-gown, rose from the table and ambled out into the surgery--for, in addition to an asylum, the doctor had a lucrative practice in that part of Eastfolkshire. The waiting-room adjoining the surgery was empty, save for one small, pale boy. Although James was on holiday, he occasionally acted as deputy when his grandfather and the latter’s assistant were not at hand. And James was quite competent to do so, for he was a fully qualified surgeon. "Well, Johnny, been eating green pears?" The urchin looked guilty. "Y-yes, sir." "Let’s see your tongue--ah! hum!" and the Long ’Un affected a serious expression as he mixed a stiffish dose of black draught. The urchin pulled a very wry face as he tasted the dose, and stopped for breath half-way through it. "Every drop!" commanded the Long ’Un. The urchin obeyed him, and then, bursting into tears, was pleased to be violently sick. "You’ll feel better now--and here’s a penny for you," quoth Jim Mortimer, in a truly paternal way for four-and-twenty. But the urchin renewed his howling. "I--I came up for me mother’s medicine," he quavered; "I--she--she didn’t know I’d been eatin’ pears." The Long ’Un threw back his head and burst into a roar of laughter. "By George! what a shot! Why, Johnny, I thought you’d come to be doctored. Well, here’s sixpence for you. Call again for the medicine--I don’t know anything about it." The urchin took the sixpence with a smile showing through his tears, and with a final sniff shuffled out of the waiting-room. The Long ’Un still looking highly amused, approached the telephone and rang up the asylum. "Ay, ay, sir!" came the response. "That you, Hughes?" "Yes, Mr James." "How’s the Zoo?" "All quiet except the major. We’ve had to put him in the padded room." "The major again!" "Yes, sir; broke out at breakfast. It took three of us to get him down. He very near pulled Smith’s windpipe out." "He doesn’t like Smith, does he?" "’Ates him, sir." "I think I’ll come across and have a look at him," said Jim. "I have an idea I can handle the old chap." "Glad to see you, Mr James," replied the head attendant; "you’re going back to town to-day, aren’t you, sir?" "Yes--back to-day, worse luck." Without bothering to alter his garb, Jim Mortimer, his gay dressing-gown sweeping the ground, strolled out into the garden and sauntered along the gravel path which led to the high road. As he went he pulled lazily at his pipe. Both of the gardeners touched their hats and smiled a welcome as he passed; the Long ’Un was a favourite all over the settlement.