“I am not alone in my equestrian powers,” retorted the Doctor, “you do quite as much in that line as I do; but my theory has the advantage of being credible, at least.” “Not credible,” said Mr. Fielding, with gentle vehemence. “No, certainly not credible. Nothing would make it credible--not even to have heard with your ears, and seen with your eyes.” “I never argue with prejudiced persons,” answered the Doctor, with equal haste and heat; and thus they parted, with every appearance of a quarrel. Such things happened almost daily between the two old friends. Dr. Somers took up his hat, gave a vague nod of leave-taking, and issued forth from the rectory gate as if he shook the dust from his feet; but all the same he would drop in at the rectory that evening, stalking carelessly through an open window as if, Mrs. Solmes said, who was not fond of the Doctor, the place belonged to him. He went across the street with more than his usual energy. His phaeton stood at his own door, with two fine horses, and the smartest of grooms standing at their heads. Dr. Somers was noted for his horses and the perfection of his turn-out generally, which was a relic of the days when he was the pride of the neighbourhood, and, people said, might have married into the highest family in the county had he so willed. He was still the handsomest man in the parish, though he was no longer young; and he was rich enough to indulge himself in all that luxury of personal surroundings which is dear to an old beauty. Edgar, who was standing at one of the twinkling windows, watched the Doctor get into his carriage with a mixture of admiration and relief. On the whole, the young man was glad not to have another interview with his old friend; but his white hair and his black eyes, his splendid old figure and beautiful horses, were a sight to see. CHAPTER IV. “I am not quite in a state to receive a gentleman,” Miss Somers was saying when Edgar went in, with a little flutter of timidity and eagerness. “But it is so kind of you to let me know, and so sweet of dear Edgar to want to come. I told my brother only last night I was quite sure---- But then he always has his own way of thinking. And you know why should dear Edgar care for a poor creature like me? I quite recognise that, my dear. There might be a time in my young days when some people cared---- but as my brother says---- And just come from the Continent, you know!” “May I come in?” said Edgar, tapping against the folding screen which sheltered the head of the sofa on which the invalid lay.