"Hallo, Sim Slee, off preaching somewhere?" said a very stout man, pulling up his horse as he overtook Sim on his way to the foreman's house. He was indeed a very stout man, so stout that he completely filled the gig from side to side, making its springs collapse, and forming a heavy load for his well-fed horse. "No, I ain't going preaching nowheer, Mester Purley," said Sim, sulkily, as he looked up sidewise in the speaker's merry face. "I thought you were off perhaps to a camp meeting, or something, Sim, and as I'm going out as far as Roby, I was going to offer you a lift along the road." There was a twinkle in the stout man's eyes as he spoke, and he evidently enjoyed the joke. "No, you warn't going to offer me a ride, doctor," said Sim. "Do you think I don't know?" "Right, Sim Slee, right," said the doctor, chuckling. "I never gave a man a lift on the road in my life, did I, Sim? Puzzle any one to sit by my side here, wouldn't it?" "Strange tight fit for him if he did," said Sim. "So it would, Sim; so it would, Sim," laughed the doctor. "I've asked a many though in my time; ha--ha--ha." "That you have, doctor," said Sim, looking at the goodly proportions of the man by his side. For it was Mr--otherwise Dr--Purley's one joke to ask everybody he overtook, or any of his convalescent patients, if they would have a lift in his gig. He had probably fired the joke as many times as he was days old; but it was always in use, and it never struck him that it might grow stale. "What's the matter with your hand, Sim?" said the doctor, touching the bound-up member with his whip. "Bit hurt--fell off a wall," said Sim, thrusting it in his breast. "And you have been poisoning it with Rag Jack oil, eh? I'll be bound you have, and when it's down bad you'll come to me to cure it. Say, Sim, some of your fellows knocked the young master about pretty well-- he's rare and bruised." "I wish ivery bit of gruzzle in his body was bruzz," said Sim, fiercely. "Do you now!" said the doctor, smiling. "Well, I suppose it'll come to broken heads with some of you, and then you'll be glad of me. Who stole the bands?" Sim jumped and turned pale, so suddenly and sharply was the question asked. "How should I know?" he cried, recovering himself. "Some of you chaps at the Bull, eh, Sim? Artful trick, very. Say, Sim, if you want a doctor for your society, remember me. Ck!" This last was to the horse, which went off immediately at a sharp trot, with the springs of the gig dancing up and down, as the wheels went in and out of the ruts.