"Please, ma, my coffee's got no sugar," observed Bobby. "There is no sugar in my coffee," said mamma correctively, as she gave her nose a twitch which sent it half an inch on one side. "Tom, sit up, sir. Yes, Mr Trethick, if my husband had his dues as a medical man, he would be in Harley Street, or in Brook Street, Grosvenor Square." "As a specialist, eh?" said Geoffrey. "Yes, Mr Trethick. Esther, my dear, why will you fill your mouth so full?" "Still, life down here is very jolly, Mrs Rumsey," said Geoffrey, handing bread and butter to two or three hungry souls. "See how the little rascals eat." "Yes," said the doctor, "that's just what they do do." "Yes," said Mrs Rumsey, endorsing her husband's words, "their appetites are dreadful; and the doctor has so little business." "Yes, there isn't much, only a mining accident now and then, or a half-drowned man or two to attend," said Rumsey. "My pa brought a man to life again," said Bobby, gazing round-eyed at the visitor. "Did he though?" said Geoffrey. "Bobby, hold your tongue." "Tom Jennen said he did," whispered the boy; "and my pa's very clever." "Yes," sighed Mrs Rumsey, "he is clever." "Hero worship," said the doctor to Geoffrey, with his eyes twinkling. "That's your great fault, dear," said Mrs Rumsey, giving her nose a twitch in the other direction. "It was that which kept you so back in London. You know you are very clever." "I'm setting a good example to my neighbours in having my house well garrisoned," said the doctor dryly. "I'm not at all ashamed to speak to my enemies in the gate--except when they come with their bills," he added softly. "For shame, dear," cried Mrs Rumsey, "what will Mr Trethick think?" "Think, ma'am," cried Geoffrey, "that he ought to be proud of his children. I never saw any better-behaved at table." "He is proud of them, I must say," said Mrs Rumsey, who was beginning to forgive her visitor for coming to breakfast; "and if he had justice done to him people would own how clever he is." "Clever at throwing a fly, Trethick, that's all." "Well, I shall have to tumble down a shaft, or get blown up, or catch a fever, or something, to try him some day, Mrs Rumsey." "Ah, a few more patients would be a godsend," said the doctor. "My papa cut a man's leg right off once," said Bobby, sententiously. "Then your papa must be a clever man," said Geoffrey, looking amusedly at the stolid little face. "Bobby, you must not say such things," cried Mrs Rumsey. "Little boys should be seen and not heard. Prissy, my dear, you are swinging your legs about again." "And he's got a wooden leg now--like an armchair," whispered Bobby, very softly, as soon as he saw his mother's attention taken up. "There was no chance in London, Trethick," said the doctor. "I'd no capital, except children, and the rents were ruinous. Besides, you have to keep up appearances to such an extent." "But the people there were not barbarians, my dear," sighed Mrs Rumsey.