"Eh? Not wanted?" said the Resident. "What, would you not like to be worshipped, and hold a court like our fair Helen yonder?" The girl's eyes flashed as she glanced in the direction of the ottoman, where Captain Hilton was talking in a low, earnest voice to Helen Perowne; and then, with a slightly-heightened colour, she went on with her work, shaking her head the while. "I don't think I shall believe that," said the Resident, banteringly; but as he spoke she looked up at him so searchingly that even he, the middle-aged man of the world, felt disconcerted, and rather welcomed the coming of the little rosy-faced doctor, who advanced on tiptoe, and with a look of mock horror in his face, as he said, softly: "Let me come here, my dear. Spread one of your dove-wings over me to ensure peace. Madam is wroth with her slave, and I dare not go near her." "Why, what have you been doing now, doctor?" said Grey, with mock severity. "Heaven knows, my dear. My name is Nor--I mean Henry--but it ought to have been Benjamin, for I have always got a mess on hand, lots of times as big as anyone else's mess. I'm a miserable man." Meanwhile the conversation had been continued between the doctor's lady and Chumbley, till the former began to fidget about, to the great amusement of the latter, who, knowing the lady's weakness, lay back with half-closed eyes, watching her uneasy glances as they followed the doctor, till after a chat here and a chat there, he made his way to the couch by Grey Stuart, and began to speak to her, evidently in a most earnest way. "She's as jealous as a Turk," said Chumbley to himself; and he tightened his lips to keep from indulging in a smile. "I'm sorry to trouble you, Mr Chumbley," said Mrs Bolter at last. "No trouble, Mrs Bolter," he replied, slowly, though his tone indicated that it would be a trouble for him to move. "Thank you. I'll bear in mind what you said about Helen Perowne." "And that nigger fellow? Ah, do!" said Chumbley, suppressing a yawn. "Would you mind telling Dr Bolter I want to speak to him for a moment-- just a moment?" "Certainly not," said Chumbley; and he rose slowly, as if a good deal of caution was required in getting his big body perpendicular; after which he crossed to where the doctor was chatting to Grey Stuart. "Here, doctor, get up," he said. "Your colonel says you are to go to her directly. There's such a row brewing!" "No, no! Gammon!" said the little man, uneasily. "Mrs Bolter didn't send you, did she?" "Yes. Honour bright! and if I were you I'd go at once and throw myself on her mercy. You'll get off more easily." "No, but Chumbley, what is it? 'Pon my word I don't think I've done anything to upset her to-day." "I don't know. There; she's looking this way! 'Pon my honour, doctor, you'd better go!" Dr Bolter rose with a sigh, and crossed to his lady, while Chumbley took his place, and threw himself back, laughing softly the while.