"My dear Mr Elthorne, I wish I could hold out hopes of an ultimate recovery of the use of your limbs, but, with a man like you, a frank, open statement is best. You know the worst, and you can get over the difficulties. I can say no more, unless I deliver a eulogy upon your son's skill." "Don't do that," said the invalid grimly; "he is conceited enough already." "Then I will leave you now and ask for a little refreshment. I have had nothing but a cup of tea since my dinner last evening." He rose, shook hands, and then turned to Nurse Elisia. "I miss you sadly, nurse, but I suppose you cannot be spared for the present." "Spared?" cried Elthorne quickly. "No, no; certainly not." "But I want her in my ward, Mr Elthorne," said Sir Denton, smiling. "Yes, after a time. But not yet. I am so helpless at present." "Well, well, we shall see," said Sir Denton pleasantly. "It is mutually satisfactory. Nurse was suffering from our close London hospital air, and overworked. The change here has worked wonders. Good-bye, Mr Elthorne. I congratulate you upon the skill your son has shown." He shook hands, and left patient and nurse together, descending with Neil to the drawing room, where Isabel, Alison, and Aunt Anne were waiting to hear his report. "Oh, I am glad," cried Aunt Anne, wiping her eyes; and then: "You think he can do without the nurse now?" Alison gave her a furious look, which did not escape Neil. "Eh? Do without the nurse?" cried Sir Denton. "I did not say so. No, my dear madam, her attention is more necessary than ever, I am sorry to say." Aunt Anne's plump countenance bespoke her disappointment. "You are sorry to say?" she said. "Yes, my dear madam, for I want her back in town." Lunch was at an end, and the carriage at the door. Sir Denton shook hands and went out into the hall with Neil, took up his hat, set it down again, looked at his watch, and replaced it. "About half an hour to spare, eh, Elthorne?" "Yes, quite." "Take me down the garden, then, where I can see flowers growing. God bless them! I wish I were a gardener. I want to speak to you." Neil led the way down a sunny walk, beneath an ancient red brick wall, the old surgeon looking sharply about him till they reached a sundial standing upon a moss-eaten stone. Here he paused and rested his elbow on the copper disk, like a modern figure of Time. "Neil Elthorne," he said, "I like you." Neil smiled. "The feeling is mutual, Sir Denton." "I know it, my dear boy. You are my favourite pupil, and I want to see you rise. Now, do not be startled. I have been requested to select an able man who promises to be eminent to send out to Black Port." "On the west coast of Africa?"