“You don’t like him?” said Dr. Somers; “neither do I. I hate a man who lives on his wits. Generally neither the wits nor the man are worth much. But as I say, this time Arthur Arden’s as good as a play. He has been turned out of the Red House--the Pimpernels will have no more of him. It is a capital story. He has been sponging upon them for a month (this, of course, is between ourselves), and I daresay they were very glad to get rid of him. You never can tell when such a visitor may go away.” “I thought the Pimpernels liked it,” said Edgar; but did not care to enter into any discussion about his cousin; and he walked on in silence for some seconds by the Doctor’s side, meaning thus to express his desire to be quit of the subject. He had, on the whole, had quite too much of Arthur Arden. He felt with the Pimpernels that to be quit of him would be a relief. “Where are you going?” said the Doctor. “It is getting late. Come with me and dine. I have just asked Arden. He is houseless and homeless, you know; and I know what it is to be condemned to the hospitalities of the Arden Arms----” “Is he at the Arden Arms?” said Edgar. “I suppose only for to-night. He must have plenty of houses to go to--a man who is so well known in the world. Thanks, Doctor; but Clare must have been expecting me for some time. I must go home.” “Clare has not been very well,” said the Doctor. “I am glad you have come back. If there ever had been such a thing as brain disease among the Ardens I should have been frightened. Fielding gave me a hint, and I went to see her. The girl has something on her mind. I don’t know if it is about Arthur Arden----” “Confound Arthur Arden!” said Edgar. “What do you suppose he could have to do with my sister Clare?” “Oh, nothing; nothing, of course,” said the Doctor, “except that they were great friends, and now they are friends no longer. And she has not looked well since; there is a look of anxiety and trouble about her. My dear fellow, you and I may not think much of Arthur Arden, but with women he could cut us both out. Some men have that way. There is no genuine feeling about them, and yet they get far before the best. His father was the same sort of fellow; he was my contemporary, and it used to set me on edge to see him. My poor sister, Letty, to this day imagines that he was fond of her. Your cousin is not a man to be despised.” “Doctor, I don’t doubt you are very wise and very right,” said Edgar; “but you forget you are speaking of Clare. Tell Miss Somers I am coming to see her to-morrow after church. And, Doctor, I think it would be worth your while to examine the old woman, Jeanie’s grandmother. I don’t think she is quite right. She was speaking wildly. I did not know what to make of her. And if you consider what a helpless pair they would be! What could they do? especially if they were both ill in that way----”