"Mr Oldroyd!" said the lady in a disappointed tone, that to the young doctor's ears seemed to say as well:--"How foolish of me to call in this inexperienced country practitioner, who, beyond a little general idea of his profession, knows next to nothing at all." "Oh, yes, my dear madam, you think he is very ill, and--pray excuse my plainness--in your motherly eyes he appears to be wasting away." Mrs Alleyne did not reply, but gazed at the speaker haughtily, and looked as cold and repellent as the room. "Your son, I repeat, has no organic disease; he has a marvellously fine physique, great mental powers, and needs no doctor at all, unless it is to give him good advice." "I presumed, Mr Oldroyd, that it was the doctor's duty to give advice." "Exactly, my dear madam; but pray be patient with me if I talk to you a little differently from what you expected. You were prepared for me to look solemn, shake my head and say that the symptoms were rather serious, but not exactly grave; that we must hope for the best; that I was very glad you sent for me when you did; and that I would send in some medicine, and look in again to-morrow. Now, you said, `Be frank with me;' I say the same to you. Did you not expect something of this kind?" "Well," said Mrs Alleyne, with something that looked like--not the dawning of a smile, but the ghost of an old one, called up to flit for a moment about her lips, "yes, I did expect something of the kind." "Exactly," said Oldroyd, smiling genially, and as if he enjoyed this verbal encounter. "Now, kindly listen to me. As I say, your son has a fine physique, but what does he do with it? Does he take plenty of active out-door exercise?" Mrs Alleyne shook her head. "Does he partake of his meals regularly?" "No, Mr Oldroyd," said Mrs Alleyne, with a sigh. "Does he sleep sufficiently and well?" "Alas! No." "Of course he does not, my dear madam. Here is a man who never employs his muscles; never takes the slightest recreation; disappoints nature when she asks for food; and turns night into day as he performs long vigils watching the stars, and burning the midnight oil. How, in the name of all that is sensible, can such a man expect to enjoy good health? Why, nature revolts against it and steals it all away, to distribute among people who obey her laws." Mrs Alleyne sighed, and thought better of the doctor than she did before. "It is impossible for such a man to be well, Mrs Alleyne; the wonder is that he has any health at all." "But he is really ill, now, Mr Oldroyd." "A little touched in the digestion, that is all." "And you will prescribe something for that?" "Yes, ma'am, I'll prescribe turpentine." "Turpentine!" cried Mrs Alleyne, aghast.