But his wife was too impatient to let him do it this time. 'Come in here while they put luncheon on the table,' she said, and she drew him into the little room. 'I have had a letter. Guess who it is from.' But Dr. Morrison shook his head. 'I am too hungry to guess anything,' he said. 'Is it from the man in the moon?' 'Almost as wonderful,' said the lady. 'It is from Dick, dear old Dick! I feel ready to jump for joy.' The doctor stood still and looked at his wife in blank amazement. 'From Dick? your brother Dick?' he said at last. 'Oh dear, don't speak like that, as though the poor fellow had ever done anything wicked! I have heard you say many times that he was only weak, not wicked.' 'Yes, yes, I know he is only weak; only too ready to say "Yes," and be led into mischief, when he ought to say "No," and stand to it. Think what his easy-going ways have cost us.' 'No, no, I can't think of that now,' interrupted the lady. 'I can only remember that he is my only brother, and I want you to take me to him at once. I have not seen him for five years,' she added, 'and he begs that you will go to him at once, because he has a friend with him who needs your attention at once. He says he met with him out in the wilds of Australia, and he has been the best friend he ever had--that this Mr. Howard has saved him body and soul. But he has fallen ill, through disappointment at not receiving a letter from his wife as soon as he landed. That he has not heard from her for years, because he had to leave England in a hurry, a great many years ago.' 'Why, that might be written of Dick himself,' said the doctor, with a smile. '"Birds of a feather," you know the old proverb!' 'Oh, but Dick must have altered, I am sure, for he says that he and Mr. Howard have both worked very hard, and made a moderate fortune, or they would not have come home to England again. That is not like the old Dick, is it?' 'No, my dear, for he generally let other people do the hard work, while he dreamed of what he would like to do. But now let me see this letter.' 'Luncheon is served, ma'am,' said the housemaid, tapping at the door at this moment. The doctor and his wife were to have the meal alone to-day, and so the servant's service was dispensed with, that they might discuss this wonderful letter, for wonderful it was, even the doctor had to confess, when he had read it. There was far more about his friend, whose wife and family he was anxious to find, than there was about the writer himself; but the most interesting piece of information was in the postscript. 'My friend has just heard that his wife went to live in the neighbourhood of your town. Can you make inquiries? She has two sons, Frederick and Horace. The latter would be about thirteen, I think.' The doctor dropped the letter and gazed at his wife. 'I wonder whether it is the father of that scholarship boy!' he almost gasped. 'What scholarship boy?' asked Mrs. Morrison impatiently.