"I told him the truth, softening it in a degree--that I did not altogether like some of the symptoms, but that I hoped, with skill and care, to get him round again. The same day he sent for Darbyshire of Timberdale, saying we must attend him conjointly, for two heads were better than one. Two days later he sent for somebody else--no other than Mr. Ben Rymer." We all screamed out in surprise. "Ben Rymer!" "Ay," said Cole, "Ben Rymer. Ben has got through and is a surgeon now, like the rest of us. And, upon my word, I believe the fellow has his profession thoroughly in hand. He will make a name in the world, the chances for it being afforded him, unless I am mistaken." Something like moisture stood in the Squire's good old eyes. "If his father, poor Rymer, had but lived to see it!" he softly said. "Anxiety, touching Ben, killed him." "So we three doctors make a pilgrimage to Sir Dace regularly everyday; sometimes together, sometimes apart," added Cole. "And, of the three of us, I believe the patient likes young Rymer best--has most confidence in him." "Shall you cure him?" "Well, we do not yet give up hope. If the disease does set in, it will----" "What?" "Run its course quickly." "An instant yet, Cole," cried the Squire, stopping the surgeon as he was turning away. "You have told us nothing. How does the parish get on?--and the people? How is Letsom?--and Crabb generally? Tanerton--how is he?--and Timberdale? Coming here fresh, we are thirsting for news." Cole laughed. He knew the pater liked gossip as much as any old woman: and the reader must understand that, as yet, we had not heard any, having reached Crabb Cot late the previous afternoon. "There is no particular news, Squire," said he. "Letsom is well; so is Crabb. Herbert Tanerton's not well. He is in a crusty way over Jack." "He is always in a way over something. Where is Jack?" "Jack's here, at the Rectory; just come to it. Robert Ashton's bailiff is about to take a farm on his own account, and Jack came rushing over from Liverpool to apply for the post." Tod, who had been too much occupied with his fishing-flies to take much heed before, set up a shrill whistle at this. "How will the parson like that?" he asked. "The parson does not like it at all. Whether he will succeed in preventing it, is another matter," concluded Cole. And, with that, he made his escape. Close upon the surgeon's departure, Colonel Letsom came in; he had heard of our arrival. It was a pity, he said, the two brothers should be at variance. Jack wanted the post--he must make a living somehow; and the Rector was in a way over it; not quite mad, but next door to it; Ashton of course not knowing what to do between them. From that subject, he began to speak of the Fontaines.