"There is a poor sick man whom I brought down with me, sir, if you could spare me half-an-hour. It really is a professional case; he is under my charge, I may say." "What is it, boy?" "Well, laudanum and a broken heart." "Exercise and ammonia for the first. For the second, God's grace and the grave: and those latter medicines you can't exhibit, my dear boy. Well, as it is professional duty, I suppose you must: but don't exceed the hour; I shall lie awake till you return, and then you must talk me to sleep." So Tom went out and homeward with Mark and Mary, for their roads lay together; and as he went, he thought good to tell them somewhat of the history of John Briggs, alias Elsley Vavasour. "Poor fool!" said Mark, who listened in silence to the end. "Why didn't he mind his bottles, and just do what Heaven sent him to do? Is he in want of the rhino, Tom?" "He had not five shillings left after he had paid his fare; and he refuses to ask his wife for a farthing." "Quite right--very proper spirit." And Mark walked on in silence a few minutes. "I say, Tom, a fool and his money are soon parted. There's a five-pound note for him, you begging, insinuating dog, and be hanged to you both! I shall die in the workhouse at this rate." "Oh father, you will never miss--" "Who told you I thought I should, pray? Don't you go giving another five pounds out of your pocket-money behind my back, ma'am. I know your tricks of old. Tom, I'll come and see the poor beggar to-morrow with you, and call him Mr. Vavasour--Lord Vavasour, if he likes--if you'll warrant me against laughing in his face." And the old man did laugh, till he stopped and held his sides again. "Oh, father, father, don't be so cruel. Remember how wretched the poor man is." "I can't think of anything but old Bolus's boy turned poet. Why did you tell me, Tom, you bad fellow? It's too much for a man at my time of life, and after his dinner too." And with that he opened the little gate by the side of the grand one, and turned to ask Tom-- "Won't come in, boy, and have one more cigar?" "I promised my father to be back as quickly as possible." "Good lad--that's the plan to go on-- 'You'll be churchwarden before all's over, And so arrive at wealth and fame.' Instead of writing po-o-o-etry? Do you recollect that morning, and the black draught? Oh dear, my side!" And Tom heard him keckling to himself up the garden walk to his house; went off to see that Elsley was safe; and then home, and slept like a top; no wonder, for he would have done so the night before his execution. And what was little Mary doing all the while?