"Humph!" said Poynter, staring. "I say, doctor--cigar, you know. Could you give a fellow a mouthful of something that would take the taste out of one's mouth? Going to see a lady." "Try cold water," said the doctor, in a tone of voice which sounded like throwing that fluid upon he young man's hopes; but he had so much faith in himself that the verbal water glanced from his fine feathers, and after rinsing his mouth, he shook hands clumsily, intending to leave the doctor's fee within his palm, but managed to drop the more valuable of the two coins on the edge of the fender, when it flew beneath the grate, and had to be fished out with the tongs. "Dodgy stuff, money, doctor," said Poynter, setting down the fire-iron, and blowing the coin. "Don't take all that trouble, pray." "Oh, it's no trouble, doctor. I was never above picking up a sov. There, don't you come. I know my way;" and he left the consulting-room to go into the house and learn his fate. "Brute!" said the doctor, with a look of disgust, as he sank into his chair. "Why is Fate so unfair with her gold! I thought as much, but Richmond will say _no_." "Old lunatic!" said James Poynter, with his fat upper lip curling in disgust, as his eyes lit on the row of glass jars with their ghastly contents. "Once I get my lady home, I don't mean to see much of him. Here, boy," he said, as he reached the hall, and so suddenly that there was nearly a serious accident, for Bob was coming down the balustrade from the first floor, gliding upon the central part of his person with arms and legs extended--taking hold having grown common. The sharp "Here, boy!" so startled him that he overbalanced himself, went right over, but caught at the upright spindly bars, and so far saved himself that he came down upon his feet in a couple of somersaults, recovering himself directly, and coming forward with a grin upon his bloodless face, as if the feat had been intended. "Ah, you'll break your neck some day. Here's a shilling for you. Take me into Miss Chartley at once." Bob bit the coin, and slipped it into his pocket before he replied, "Gone out." "Gone out? Will she be long?" "Dessay she'll be hours, sir." James Poynter stamped with his foot, and muttered something unparliamentary. "Tell Miss Chartley," he said. "No, don't tell her anything. Here, let me out." Bob ran to the ponderous old door, and stood holding it open with his eyes glittering as he stared at the visitor, till he had hurried out with his hat set very much on one side, and walked sharply away. "Thought he'd want the bob again," said the boy. "Just do for the old gal. Well, I'm blessed!" This last consequent upon his catching sight of a shabby-looking figure in black, with a damaged bonnet, and a weirdly dissipated look, rising slowly into sight up the area-steps, and then coming out of the creaking gate to the boy, who grew more serious the nearer the figure came.