Hippias protested he had never heard a word from his nephew of any physical affliction. "He was afraid of making you anxious, I think, sir." Algernon Feverel and Richard came in while he was hammering at the alphabet to recollect the first letter of the doctor's name. They had met in the hall below, and were laughing heartily as they entered the room. Ripton jumped up to get the initiative. "Have you seen the doctor?" he asked, significantly plucking at Richard's fingers. Richard was all abroad at the question. Algernon clapped him on the back. "What the deuce do you want with doctor, boy?" The solid thump awakened him to see matters as they were. "Oh, ay! the doctor!" he said, smiling frankly at his lieutenant." Why, he tells me he'd back me to do Milo's trick in a week from the present day.--Uncle," he came forward to Hippias, "I hope you'll excuse me for running off as I did. I was in a hurry. I left something at the railway. This stupid Rip thinks I went to the doctor about myself. The fact was, I wanted to fetch the doctor to see you here--so that you might have no trouble, you know. You can't bear the sight of his instruments and skeletons--I've heard you say so. You said it set all your marrow in revolt--'fried your marrow,' I think were the words, and made you see twenty thousand different ways of sliding down to the chambers of the Grim King. Don't you remember?" Hippias emphatically did not remember, and he did not believe the story. Irritation at the mad ravishment of his pill-box rendered him incredulous. As he had no means of confuting his nephew, all he could do safely to express his disbelief in him, was to utter petulant remarks on his powerlessness to appear at the dinner-table that day: upon which-- Berry just then trumpeting dinner--Algernon seized one arm of the Dyspepsy, and Richard another, and the laughing couple bore him into the room where dinner was laid, Ripton sniggering in the rear, the really happy man of the party. They had fun at the dinner-table. Richard would have it; and his gaiety, his by-play, his princely superiority to truth and heroic promise of overriding all our laws, his handsome face, the lord and possessor of beauty that he looked, as it were a star shining on his forehead, gained the old complete mastery over Ripton, who had been, mentally at least, half patronizing him till then, because he knew more of London and life, and was aware that his friend now depended upon him almost entirely. After a second circle of the claret, the hero caught his lieutenant's eye across the table, and said: "We must go out and talk over that law-business, Rip, before you go. Do you think the old lady has any chance?" "Not a bit!" said Ripton, authoritatively. "But it's worth fighting--eh, Rip?" "Oh, certainly!" was Ripton's mature opinion.