The old sexton shook his head and went to his locked-up chest, in which, with a good deal of rattling of keys, he deposited the doctor's bag. He was in the act of shutting the heavy lid, when something made him turn to where he had left his companion seated, and he stared in amazement, for the chair was tenantless! He had not heard North start from his seat and literally rush out of the cottage, as if pursued by some invisible force. Volume 2, Chapter XXIII. "MY DEAR NORTH!" "No, sir, he isn't at home," said Mrs Milt, trying to smile at the curate, but only succeeding in producing two icy wrinkles--one on either side of her lips. "Some one ill, Mrs Milt?" "Well, really, sir, I can't say. Master shut himself in his study last thing--as he will persist in ruining his health and his pocket in lamps and candles--and I went to bed as usual, although mortally in dread of fire, for master is so careless with a light. Then I s'pose some one must have come in the night and fetched him. His breakfast has been waiting hours, and--oh, here he comes!" For at that moment North came round the end of the house, having entered his garden right at the bottom by the meadow, his dew-wet boots and the dust upon his trousers showing that he must have been walking far. "Breakfast's quite ready, sir," said Mrs Milt austerely, as soon as North came within hearing. "Yes--yes," he said impatiently, as he waved her away. "Ah, Salis! Come in." "Why, how fagged you look! Who is ill?" "Ill? Who is ill?" said North wonderingly. "Oh, I see! Well, I am." "Yes, that's plain enough," said Salis anxiously. "My dear fellow, you are not at all up to the mark." "Not up to the mark, old chap? Right as the mail! Here, come in, and have some breakfast." This was said with so much boisterous, coarse jollity, that the curate could not help a wondering look. North saw it, and his countenance assumed a look of intense pain. "Did you want me?" he said, closing the breakfast-room door, and speaking in a different tone entirely. "Well, old fellow, I thought I'd run over just to consult you." "Not ill?" said North, in a voice full of anxiety, but only to supplement it with a sharp, back-handed blow in the chest, and exclaim, in quite a rollicking way: "See! you! I say, you're in tip-top condition!" And then he burst into a hearty roar. "I don't know about tip-top condition," said Salis tartly, "for I'm not at all well. I'm a good deal bothered, old fellow, about--about some matters; and you'll not mind my coming to see you about things that one would not go to a doctor about, but to a friend." "I am very, very glad to have you come to me as a friend, Salis," said North earnestly. "Anything I can do I--is it money?" "Money? Tut--tut! No! When did you ever know me a borrower, man? I beg your pardon, North," he added, beaming at his friend. "That's just like you--so good and thoughtful; but no, no--no money! Old Polonius was right."