Jim used to reach the surgery in the morning about ten. Between one and two, or two and three--according to his engagements--he had his lunch at the emporium of Harris & Father, or at some other eating-house situated near his work. Tea was served to him (when he was there to have it) by an old dame whom he had engaged to look after the house and do the cleaning. This lady occupied a couple of the upper back rooms, for Mr Harris, losing no time in carrying out his hoarding scheme, had let off the upper walls of the front to a bill-posting firm, the result being that that portion of the ex-pawnbroking establishment which faced the street was soon covered with flaming placards drawing attention to whatever melodrama was being played at the local theatre. As Mr Harris had anticipated, these posters attracted much attention, and Mount Street wayfarers stopped constantly to gape at the thrilling scenes depicted in crude and aggressive colours above Jim’s surgery. Not being aware of Mr Harris’s responsibility for this display, Mount Street naturally conjectured that Jim Mortimer had let off the walls on his own account; and so, while some of its inhabitants expressed admiration for Jim’s cuteness, others declared that a doctor ought to be above getting money in that way, adding that Taplow didn’t descend to such catchpenny tricks, which showed that he could afford to do without them. The posters were a source of constant amusement to Jim himself, and he took a keen interest in the weekly changes of the pictorial decoration of his outside walls. The men who came every Monday to paste up new "bills" soon got to know the young doctor, and one of them gruffly invited Jim to pay a call on his father-in-law, who seemed unable to throw off an obstinate attack of bronchitis. Jim promptly looked up the old man; after examining him, he stripped him to the skin and rubbed him all over with brandy. "It’ll be all right," said Jim, "you’ll see." And it was, for the fierce spirit drew out the inflammation, and within three days the bill-poster’s father-in-law was able to go downstairs. The story of the cure, needless to say, was related in every public-house in the district--and from that hour more patients began to trickle into Mortimer’s surgery. Jim went home for dinner, but returned to his surgery directly the meal was over. One night, however, he did not go to the surgery, but, instead, stayed at No. 9 and helped Frank with his home-lessons. They had the dining-room to themselves, and were soon deeply immersed in the Rivers of Europe. Presently Dora peeped in--a little shyly, it seemed to Jim--and Frank sang out: "I say, Dora, this is a lark; come and see!" For Jim had drawn a rough outline map of Europe, and Frank was filling in the countries and rivers, Jim holding the map proper before him and coaching his pupil with characteristic energy.