“Do you mean to say that this is your doctor--that you take the advice of this person?” The young girl drew herself up very stiffly. “Sir, I will not bandy words with you. I perceive very clearly that you are one of those who have been so immersed in material knowledge that you have had no time to devote to the possibilities of the spirit.” “I certainly have no time for nonsense,” said Challenger. “My dear chief!” cried a voice from the bed. “I beg you to bear in mind how much Dr. Felkin has already done for me. You saw how I was a month ago, and you see how I am now. You would not offend my best friend.” “I certainly think, Professor, that you owe dear Dr. Felkin an apology,” said Miss Delicia. “A private lunatic asylum!” snorted Challenger. Then, playing up to his part, he assumed the ponderous elephantine irony which was one of his most effective weapons in dealing with recalcitrant students. “Perhaps, young lady--or shall I say elderly and most venerable Professor?--you will permit a mere raw earthly student, who has no more knowledge than this world can give, to sit humbly in a corner and possibly to learn a little from your methods and your teachings.” The speech was delivered with his shoulders up to his ears, his eyelids over his eyes, and his palms extended in front--an alarming statue of sarcasm. Dr. Felkin, however, was striding, with heavy and impatient steps, about the room and took little notice. “Quite so! Quite so!” he said carelessly. “Get into the corner and stay there. Above all stop talking, as this case calls for all my faculties.” He turned with a masterful air towards the patient. “Well, well, you are coming along. In two months you will be in the class-room.” “Oh, it is impossible!” cried Ross Scotton, with a half sob. “Not so. I guarantee it. I do not make false promises.” “I’ll answer for that,” said Miss Delicia. “I say, dear Doctor, do tell us who you were when you were alive.”