They laughed again in the most good-humoured way, and, as soon as the young fellow had recovered, we all joined in quite a confidential conversation. It is wonderful how the intrusion of any of the realities of life brushes away the cobwebs of etiquette. In half an hour we knew all about each other, or at any rate I knew all about them. Mrs. La Force was the mother’s name, a widow with these two children. They had given up housekeeping, and found it more pleasant to live in apartments, travelling from one watering place to another. Their one trouble was the nervous weakness of the son Fred. They were now on their way to Birchespool, where they hoped that he might get some good from the bracing air. I was able to recommend vegetarianism, which I have found to act like a charm in such cases. We had quite a spirited conversation, and I think that we were sorry on both sides when we came to the junction where they had to change. Mrs. La Force gave me her card, and I promised to call if ever I should be in Birchespool. However, all this must be stupid enough to you. You know my little ways by this time, and you don’t expect me to keep on the main line of my story. However, I am back on the rails now, and I shall try to remain there. Well, it was nearly six o’clock, and evening was just creeping in when we drew up in Bradfield Station. The first thing I saw when I looked out of the window was Cullingworth, exactly the same as ever, striding in his jerky way down the platform, his coat flying open, his chin thrust forward (he is the most under-hung man I have ever seen), and his great teeth all gleaming, like a good-natured blood-hound. He roared with delight when he saw me, wrung my hand, and slapped me enthusiastically upon the shoulder. “My dear chap!” said he. “We’ll clear this town out. I tell you, Munro, we won’t leave a doctor in it. It’s all they can do now to get butter to their bread; and when we get to work together they’ll have to eat it dry. Listen to me, my boy! There are a hundred and twenty thousand folk in this town, all shrieking for advice, and there isn’t a doctor who knows a rhubarb pill from a calculus. Man, we only have to gather them in. I stand and take the money until my arm aches.” “But how is it?” I asked, as we pushed our way through the crowd, “are there so few other doctors?” “Few!” he roared. “By Crums, the streets are blocked with them. You couldn’t fall out of a window in this town without killing a doctor. But of all the ---- well, there, you’ll see them for yourself. You walked to my house at Avonmouth, Munro. I don’t let my friends walk to my house at Bradfield--eh, what?” A well-appointed carriage with two fine black horses was drawn up at the station entrance. The smart coachman touched his hat as Cullingworth opened the door. “Which of the houses, sir?” he asked.