"I wouldn't stay in it if it were worth a million a-year," cried Mr. Shuttleworth. "Dockett takes the parish; I make him; but he is not up to much yet, and of course I feel that I am responsible. As to the town practice, why, I assure you nearly all of it has lain on me. Tamlyn, poor fellow, can think of nothing but his boy." "He will not have him here long to think of, I fear." "Not very long; no. I hear, doctor, he is going to offer a partnership to you." "He has said something about it. I shall take it, if he does. Lefford is my native place, and I would rather live here than anywhere. Besides, I don't mind work," he added, with a smile. "Ah, you are younger than I am. But I'd advise you, as I have advised Tamlyn, to give up the parish. For goodness' sake do, Knox. Tamlyn says that at one time he had not much else _but_ the parish, but it's different now. Your father had all the better practice then." "Shall you set up elsewhere?" "Not at present," said Mr. Shuttleworth. "We--I--perhaps you have heard, though--that I and Bessy are going to make a match of it? We shall travel for a few months, or so, and then come home and pitch our tent in some pleasant sea-side place. If a little easy practice drops in to me there, well and good: if not, we can do without it. Stay and smoke a cigar with me?" Arnold looked at his watch, and sat down again. He wanted to ask Mr. Shuttleworth about Miss Carey's illness. "The cause of her illness was the loss of that bank-note," said the surgeon. "They accused her of stealing it, and wanted to give her into custody. A little more, and she'd have had brain-fever. She was a timid, inexperienced girl, and the fright gave her system a shock." "Miss Carey would no more steal a bank-note than you or I would steal one, Shuttleworth." "Not she. I told Mrs. Knox so: but she scoffed at me." "That Miss Carey is innocent as the day, that she is an upright, gentle, Christian girl, I will stake my life upon," said Dr. Knox. "How the note can have gone is another matter." "Are you at all interested in finding it out?" questioned Mr. Shuttleworth. "Certainly I am. Every one ought to be, I think." The surgeon took his cigar from his mouth. "I'll tell you my opinion, if you care to know it," he said. "The note was burnt." "Burnt!" "Well, it is the most likely solution of the matter that I can come to. Either burnt, or else was blown away." "But why do you say this?" questioned Dr. Knox. "It was a particularly windy day. The glass-doors of the room were left open while the house ran about in a fright, attending to the child, young Dick. A flimsy bit of bank-paper, lying on the table, would get blown about like a feather in a gale. Whether it got into the fire, caught by the current of the chimney, or whether it sailed out-of-doors and disappeared in the air, is a question I can't undertake to solve. Rely upon it, Knox, it was one of the two: and I should bet upon the fire."