Taking these two arguments--if such they may be called--into consideration, Jim felt pretty sure that this was Dora’s home. _Her_ home! Jim’s brain reeled for a moment at the mere idea of it. His coming here seemed to have happened as things happen in dreams--he could hardly realise even yet that he was actually under the same roof as that which afforded shelter to Dora Maybury. So quickly had this change in his circumstances been brought about, that he had not even considered what Miss Maybury’s ideas on the subject of his advent might be. In truth, he hardly dared to consider the position from that point of view. Jim had accepted his present post in his usual happy-go-lucky way, being at an age when men of his temperament do not act with much forethought. Had Sir Savile asked him to accompany an expedition in search of the North Pole, he would have agreed to go without a moment’s hesitation; had the great surgeon offered him a billet as medical officer to a tour of exploration in Equatorial Africa, Jim would have "signed on" with all the readiness in the world; and with an equal amount of promptitude he would have sailed as surgeon on an emigrant steamer, would have taken over the medical duties in a small-pox ship, a workhouse, a blind school, or a convict prison. Had some great air-vessel been invented, Jim would have jumped at the opportunity to accompany her in her ethereal journey as medical adviser to the intrepid voyagers; or, if such a post had been on offer, he would have consented to doctor the exiles in a Siberian mine. He was, in fact, ready to go anywhere so long as he went in a medical capacity. Whatever Jim’s faults were--and they were many in number--he was at least devoted to his profession. His heart was in his work, and when he really put his shoulder to the wheel there was more than a touch of genius in the manoeuvres of his "hand." For Jim was a surgeon before anything. Here he was, however, in charge of an obscure practice, where, owing to the proximity of hospitals, there would be few calls on his surgical skill. He would always be welcome, of course, in the operating theatre at "Matt’s," although it was not likely that he would often have time to attend there. Did Jim regret accepting this humble billet in a humble district? Not for a moment! Indeed, when he thought how Fate had afforded him a chance of seeing Dora every day, he very nearly broke into a hornpipe on his bedroom hearthrug. However, he restrained himself, and went down to the drawing-room, the big black cat following steadily in his wake.