THE DOCTOR IS NERVOUS. "It's all very well, Master North, for you to come here bullying me about my health, and ordering me to go fishing, and half ruin myself with cigars," said the curate; "but I feel disposed to retort, `Physician, heal thyself.' Why, you're as white as so much dough." "Nonsense!" cried the doctor hastily. "Prisoner denies the impeachment," said Salis. "First witness--Mary Salis--what do you say?" Mary smiled at North, as she said quietly: "I think Doctor North looks worn and pale." "There, you hear," cried Salis triumphantly. "I'm not convinced," said North. "I shall call a witness on my side. Leo, will you speak for me?" "Certainly I will," said Leo quietly, as she looked up from her inevitable book. "Do I look pale and worn out?" Leo shook her head. "No," she said quietly. "I think you look very well. Only, perhaps, a little more earnest than of old." "Thank you--thank you," cried the doctor eagerly. "Why, he looks bad," said Salis; "and it's a horrible piece of imposture for him to come here bullying me and wanting to give me abominable decoctions, besides leading me into idleness and debauchery, when all the time he cannot keep himself right." "Nonsense!" cried the doctor pettishly. "I never was better: never more busy." "The fellow's a humbug," said Salis, bringing his hand down on the table with a rap. "I'll tell you what's the matter." North turned upon him a look so full of mingled entreaty and annoyance that he checked himself. "No," he said, laughing, "I am as bad as Horace North. I can't tell you what's the matter unless it is that he is working too hard over his craze." North looked at him keenly, and his pallor increased. "Well, I must be off up to the church. I want to see my friend, Moredock." "To see Moredock?" said the doctor, with a quick, uneasy look at the speaker. "Yes. I'm not satisfied with the old man's proceedings." "What has he been doing?" said the doctor, who fidgeted in his seat, and seemed anything but himself. "Oh, I'm going to make no special charges against him," said the curate. "Coming my way?" "N-no, yes," said North, rising, and going to Mary's couch to shake hands, her eyes looking up into his with a calm, patient smile full of resignation and desire for his happiness, which he could not read. He turned then to Leo, who was reading, and evidently deeply engrossed in her book. "Going?" she said, letting it fall, and looking up with a placid smile. "What lovely weather, is it not?"