Just then Mrs Milt entered with the coffee, toast, and a covered dish, a second cup and saucer being on her tray. "Well, yes; I'll have another cup," said Salis, smiling and nodding; and, directly after, the old friends were seated together opposite to each other, but with North leaving his breakfast untasted, while Salis seemed to enjoy his number two. "You're not eating, old fellow! I say, you know you're ill. It's my turn now to prescribe." "Only a little feverish. I have been and had a long walk." "Ah, that's right. Nature is splendid for that sort of thing." "Yes," said North quickly. "Now, what can I do for you?" He winced as he spoke, for he expected to hear something about Leo. "Well, the fact is, old fellow, you know that my surplice was stolen." North shrank again, but nodded sharply. "Well, old fellow, I banteringly said something about the loss being severe to a poor man." "I--I wish I had known," said North, with a frank smile. "You mean if you had you would have given me one." "Yes, that is what I mean," said North. "And if you had, I'd have cut you, sir, dead! Sure it was not you?" "Not me?" "Who sent me a present of a remarkably fine new surplice." "Certainly not." "Then it was she." "I do not understand you." "Look here! there is only one person who could have sent such a present, and it must be Mrs Berens." "Ah, you sly dog! Oh, shame! shame! Ha--ha--ha!" roared North. "The pretty widow--eh? That's pulse-feeling, and putting out the tongue, and how are we this morning! Ha--ha--ha!" Hartley Salis had a small piece of broiled ham upon his fork, being a man of excellent appetite; and at his friend's first words, uttered in a most singular tone, he let the fork drop with a clatter, pushed his chair a little way back, and stared! "I--I'm very sorry," faltered North, in a most penitent tone. "My dear North! Why, what is the matter with you?" "A little--er--feverish, I think; that is all!" "One is not used to hear such outbursts from you, old fellow," said Salis; and there was a tinge of annoyance in his tone. "Pray, pray go on. I--er--hardly know what I said." Salis drew his chair up again, picked up the fork, raised the piece of brown ham once, set it down, and then took up his cup and sipped the coffee, with his face resuming its unruffled aspect. "I'm not cross, old fellow--only nettly. It's so unlike you to attempt to--well, to use our old term--chaff me. Besides which, this thing is a great source of annoyance to me. I feel as if I cannot accept the present--as if it laid me under an obligation to Mrs Berens; and, really, I should be glad to have your advice. What would you do?" "What would I do?" cried North, in a coarse, rasping voice. "Why, you know what you want me to say. Get out, you jolly old humbug!" "Sir!" "Go along with you! What are you to do with the surplice? Why, wear it, and lend it to old May afterwards when he comes down to marry you and the pretty widow."