"All right--all right," said the doctor cheerily. "Let's go down to the waterside." "No, no!" exclaimed Scarlett, with a shudder. "Come to the rhododendrons." "By all means. But I say, old fellow, you must fight down this weakness." "Weakness? What weakness? Is it a weakness to prefer one part of the garden to the other?" "O no; of course not. Let's go down there." They strolled down between two great banks of the grand flowering shrubs, now rich with the glossy green of their summer growth, and sat down, when a new trouble assailed Scarlett, and he sprang up impatiently. "Hah!" he exclaimed. "I can't bear it." "Why, what's the matter now?" "Those blue-bottles buzzing about me like that; just as if they expected I should soon be carrion." "Pooh! What an absurd idea! But you are wrong, old fellow, as usual. I am the more fleshy subject, and they would be after me. Let's go down yonder under the firs." "Why? What is there there, that you should choose that part?" said Scarlett, with a quick suspicious glance. "Fir-trees, shade, seats to sit down," said the doctor quietly. "Yes, yes, of course; that will do," said Scarlett hastily. "Let's go there." They strolled along a sun-burned path; and the doctor had just made the remark that commences this chapter, when there was a rustling noise among the shrubs, a whining yelp, and Scarlett's favourite dog, a little white fox-terrier, rushed out at them, to leap up at its master, barking with delight. It came upon them so suddenly, that Scarlett uttered a wild cry, caught at the doctor's arm, screened himself behind his sturdy body, and stood there trembling like a leaf. "Why, it's only Fritz!" cried the doctor, smiling. "He startled me so--so sudden," panted Scarlett. "Drive the brute away." "Ist! Go home; go back!" cried the doctor; and, as if understanding the state of affairs, and dejected and wretched at being treated like this, where he had expected to be patted and caressed, the dog drooped his head and tail, looked wistfully up at his master, and slowly trotted away. He turned at the end of the path, and looked back at them, as if half expecting to be recalled, and then went on out of sight. "I'll sell that dog, Jack; he's growing vicious," said Scarlett, speaking in an excited tone. "I've watched him a good deal lately. What are the first signs of hydrophobia?" "Hydrophobia," said the doctor smiling--"water-hating; but I have never studied the diseases of dogs--only sad dogs." "I wish you would not be so flippant, Jack, I'm sure that dog is going mad. He hates water now." "Don't agree with you, old fellow," said the doctor, throwing himself upon a great rustic seal beneath some pines; "the dog was quite wet, and I saw him, an hour ago, plashing about after the rats." "Ah, but he avoids it sometimes. I have a horror of mad dogs."