“It is a great watering-place, chiefly for rheumatic complaints, and that is all very well for the elder boy. As to the little one, he is in as critical a state as I ever saw, and--His mother is an excellent linguist, that is one good thing.” “Yes; it would be very trying for her to have a foreigner to attend the boy in such a state, however skilled he might be,” said Lord Fordham. “I think we might make up our minds to stay with them till they can get some one from England.” Dr. Medlicott caught at the words. “It rests with you,” he said. “Of course I am your property and Mrs. Evelyn’s, but I should like to tell you why this is more to me than a matter of common humanity. I went up to study in London, a simple, foolish lad, bred up by three good old aunts, more ignorant of the world than their own tabby cat. Of course I instantly fell in with the worst stamp of fellows, and was in a fair way of being done for, body and soul, if one of the lecturers, after taking us to task for some heartless, disgusting piece of levity, seeing perhaps that it was more than half bravado on my part and nearly made me sick, managed to get me alone. He talked it out with me, found out the innocent-hearted fool I was, cured me of my false shame at what the good old souls at home had taught me, showed me what manhood was, found a good friend and a better lodging for me, in short, was the saving of me. He died three months after I first knew him, but whatever is worth having in me is owing to him.” “Was he the father of these boys?” “Yes; I saw a likeness in the nephew who came down yesterday, and I see it in both the others.” “Of course you would wish to do all that is possible for them?” “I should feel it the greatest honour. Still my first duty is to you, and you have told me that your mother wished you to keep your brother out of the way of his schoolfellow.” “My mother would not wish to deprive her worst enemy of your care in such need as this,” said Lord Fordham, smiling. “Besides if this friend of Cecil’s were ever so bad, he couldn’t do him much harm while he is ill, poor boy. We will at any rate stay to get them through the next few days, and then we can judge. I will settle it with my mother.” “I knew you would say so,” rejoined the doctor. “Thank you. Then it seems to me that the right course will be to write to Mrs. Evelyn, inclosing a note to Dr. Lucas--who it seems is Mrs. Brownlow’s chief reliance--asking him to find someone to send out. She, can send it on to him if she disapproves of our remaining together longer than is absolutely necessary, or if Leukerbad disagrees with you. Meantime, I’ll go and see whether Reeves has found any men to carry the poor boys.”