Surgeon Pinfold rang a bell. “My errand-boy is going past the house, to deliver some medicine,” he answered. “It’s a poor place; but you’ll find it neat and nice enough--thanks to your good master. He’s helping the two women to begin life again out of this country; and, while they’re waiting their turn to get a passage, they’ve taken an extra room and hired some decent furniture, by your master’s own wish. Oh, here’s the boy; he’ll show you the way. One word before you go. What do you think of saying to Sally?” “I shall tell her, for one thing, sir, that my master is miserable for want of her.” Surgeon Pinfold shook his head. “That won’t take you very far on the way to persuading her. You will make _her_ miserable too--and there’s about all you will get by it.” Toff lifted his indicative forefinger to the side of his nose. “Suppose I tell her something else, sir? Suppose I tell her my master is not going to be married to anybody?” “She won’t believe you know anything about it.” “She will believe, for this reason,” said Toff, gravely; “I put the question to my master before I came here; and I have it from his own lips that there is no young lady in the way, and that he is not--positively not--going to be married. If I tell Miss Sally this, sir, how do you say it will end? Will you bet me a shilling it has no effect on her?” “I won’t bet a farthing! Follow the boy--and tell young Sally I have sent her a better doctor than I am.” While Toff was on his way to Sally, Toff’s boy was disturbing Amelius by the announcement of a visitor. The card sent in bore this inscription: “Brother Bawkwell, from Tadmor.” Amelius looked at the card; and ran into the hall to receive the visitor, with both hands held out in hearty welcome. “Oh, I am so glad to see you!” he cried. “Come in, and tell me all about Tadmor!” Brother Bawkwell acknowledged the enthusiastic reception offered to him by a stare of grim surprise. He was a dry, hard old man, with a scrubby white beard, a narrow wrinkled forehead, and an obstinate lipless mouth; fitted neither by age nor temperament to be the intimate friend of any of his younger brethren among the Community. But, at that saddest time of his life, the heart of Amelius warmed to any one who reminded him of his tranquil and happy days at Tadmor. Even this frozen old Socialist now appeared to him, for the first time, under the borrowed aspect of a welcome friend. Brother Bawkwell took the chair offered to him, and opened the proceedings, in solemn silence, by looking at his watch. “Twenty-five minutes past two,” he said to himself--and put the watch back again. “Are you pressed for time?” Amelius asked.