I walked out stiffly, with confidence, with pride. I walked in the shadow of THE HAT. *XXIX* *ON EARNING SIXPENCE* Behold our doctor on crutches and having his foot in a sling; deprived also of all burgundies, by the heartless mandate of another doctor. Behold him also in controversy with his daughter. "You are perfectly insane," said that lady. "Doctor Beaver said quite distinctly that if you so much as moved your leg for the next three days, he wouldn’t be answerable for the consequences." "Haven’t I been saying for the last three years that Beaver is an ignorant old quack?" inquired the doctor. "And now," pursued his daughter, "because a drunken old woman comes round and raves at you, smelling of gin like a—like a cistern, you calmly propose to crawl out and go all the way to Burbidge Street, because her daughter happens to object to the locum. I’m quite sure he’s a very decent locum; quite the nicest we’ve ever had. He’s engaged to a school-mistress, and he knitted that waistcoat himself." "The locum is a blasted young pup," responded Doctor Brink. "Heavens!" cried his daughter, "whatever is the matter with _this_ locum?" "He’s giving ’em _real drugs_," said the doctor, with gloom. "What if he is?" argued James; "I don’t suppose it’ll kill ’em." "Still," mused the doctor, "when people aren’t used to that sort of damfoolery—— I don’t want my statistics mucked up. Besides, there’s the expense. And——" "Oh, blow the ’ands,’" replied his little daughter. "You’ve engaged the man, and you’ve got to keep him. And you’ve got to pay him. He’s come here prepared to do a week’s work, so for goodness sake let him do it. I’m sure he’s willing enough, at any rate." "Willing?" repeated the doctor; "my dear girl, he is the ultimate thing in eagerness. I——" But the doctor’s further observations on this head were interrupted by the entry of the subject of them—a young gentleman in correct dress, with fair hair and a face, who was introduced to me as Doctor Tewksbury. "I am sorry to say, Doctor," remarked this young man, "that that old woman in Mulberry Buildings is dead." "What!" cried Doctor Brink. "Poor old Mrs. Thacker? I’m sorry. She was a nice old thing." "Yes," assented Doctor Tewksbury, "an interesting old hag—such marked symptoms. I wish I’d exhibited bromide." "It wouldn’t have made any difference," said Doctor Brink. "Of course not," responded Doctor Tewksbury. "She was quite hopeless; but still bromide was clearly indicated. Hullo—foot hurting?" "Not—not more than usual," answered Doctor Brink. "My back was tickling. That’s all. Any news?"