[Illustration: "Harold! Here's that pretty girl in grey."--_p. 402._] There was a ring at the bell, and the landlady entered, announcing, with a smile, "Miss Geare and Miss Pepper." A little, round-faced, white-haired lady, with curiously wandering light-blue eyes, then tripped into the room, carrying something carefully in her arms; followed by a forbidding, tall, dark-haired female, to whom Harold took an instant and hearty dislike. "Oh, doctor!" began the little lady, in a breathless, excited way, with hardly any stops, "I saw your plate on the door, and I've come to see if you can cure my darling little Bijon; a great cruel cabman has just driven over him, and I'm afraid his poor leg's broken. Will you look?" Harold could hardly restrain a smile. "I am not a veterinary surgeon, madam." [Illustration: Harold perceived an expression of despair flit over her features.--_p. 405._] "I told you it was no use coming here," growled Miss Pepper, the companion, in a voice as unamiable as her face. "Oh, but poor Bijou is in such pain!" With that Miss Geare burst into passionate tears and again entreated Harold's aid. To end the tiresome scene, he examined the dog, unprofessional though it might be, and, finding one of its legs was broken, improvised splints and set it carefully. Miss Geare's gratitude was excessive. "And you _will_ come and see Bijou, won't you?" implored the old lady. "He must have attention until he gets well, and I live at Lyndhurst Lodge, Murray Road." Harold demurred, as being unprofessional. "Then come to attend _me_," eagerly responded Miss Geare. "I'm often rather ailing; and you can give Bijou a look at the same time." She looked at him so pleadingly that he could not find it in his heart to say no. She brightened up at his consent, and asked for a cab, in which to take home her injured darling, and then laid a sovereign and a shilling on the table. "I don't think I am entitled to charge for attending the dog," said Harold, crimsoning. "Certainly, this is far too much." "Watson, the veterinary surgeon, _never_ would have charged a guinea," indignantly added Miss Pepper; but Miss Geare was resolute, and when she had departed, it was certainly pleasant to see the gold piece on the table, sovereigns being sadly scarce with him, poor fellow! He instituted inquiries, and learnt that Miss Geare belonged to a good family, and was well-off, but somewhat "queer." In early youth she was engaged to an officer, who was killed at Delhi, and had become gradually more and more eccentric, until now she only lived for her dogs and cats. Miss Pepper, it was added, tyrannised over her shamefully, as though she were the mistress and Miss Geare the companion.