‘Sit down and talk sensibly,’ said the doctor quietly, ‘and I’ll see what I can do for an old comrade in distress.’ The doctor and his visitor were closeted together in earnest conversation for over an hour. When Marston went out through the garden gate, Rebecca looked after him with as much scorn as her features could assume. ‘He ain’t been here for no good, I’ll wager,’ she said to herself. ‘If he ain’t got something in his pocket as he didn’t bring in with him my name ain’t Rebeccer.’ Rebecca was quite right. Mr. Marston had something in his pocket that he didn’t bring in with him. It was a cheque for £500. In spite of his non-lucrative practice, Dr. Birnie evidently had a balance at his banker’s. CHAPTER VIII. MR. DUCK’S NEW LODGERS. It is a week since Mr. and Mrs. George Smith have taken up their residence beneath the humble rooftree of Mr. Jabez Duck. ‘Quite the gentleman,’ says Miss Duck, when she discusses the new lodgers with her brother. ‘And quite the lady,’ adds Mr. Duck, upon whom Bess’s bright country face has made a great impression. ‘You’re an idiot, Jabez,’ answers Georgina. ‘She may be a lady in comparison with the _persons_ with whom _you_ are in the habit of associating—housekeepers, cooks, and such like menials—but Mrs. Smith is not a real lady. Anybody could see that with half an eye.’ ‘Well, my dear, I’ve got four half eyes, and I say distinctly that a well-bred and well-behaved young woman——’ ‘Quite so, Jabez; she is a very nice young woman: but a young woman is not a young lady.’ Mr. Jabez gave premonitory symptoms of a small joke by increasing in shininess. A smile spread up to the roots of his hair. ‘A young woman is not a young lady; but a young lady must be a young woman. Ha, ha!—that’s a paradox.’ ‘It may be a paradocks, or a Victoria Docks, or an East India Docks, or any docks you like,’ said Miss Duck, snappishly; ‘but if Mrs. Smith ‘s a lady, I’ll eat my head.’ ‘Don’t, my dear,’ exclaimed Jabez, with the premonitory shine bursting forth again. ‘It would be sure to bring on indigestion, and your temper’s awful when your digestion’s bad.’ ‘Jabez, you’re a contemptible idiot. Such frivolous tomfoolery may suit the menial classes with which you mix; but don’t bring it into this house, if you please.’ Jabez evidently thought he’d made quite as many small jokes as his sister could stand for one day; so he finished his breakfast in silence and departed citywards. The menial classes were metaphorically hurled at his head now whenever he and his sister were together; but Jabez was not to be provoked into picking up the gauntlet; and, in spite of all Georgina’s hints, the name of Mrs. Turvey never crossed his lips. Leaving Mr. Jabez to get to the office by himself, let us walk upstairs to the first floor, and pay a visit to the newly married couple.