"Yes, but my poor nephew is poor. He also has come from foreign parts Major as you did, and just as poor. You must give him a ticket--oh really you must." Miss Pewsey spoke with an emphasis on every other word, and between her teeth as though she was trying to prevent the speech escaping too rapidly. "Now, Major," she coaxed. "I'll see, ma'am--I'll see." "Oh. I knew you would." She clasped her hands again, "come and see my Sophia--dear Miss Wharf, and then you can give Clarence--that's my nephew's name, sweet isn't it?--you can give him the ticket. But don't bring _him_," added Miss Pewsey jerking her old head backward in the direction of Dr. Forge's residence, "he's there." "Who is there, ma'am?" demanded the Major with a start. "Why that horrid Mr. Ainsleigh and--" Miss Pewsey got no further. The Major uttered something naughty under his breath, and taking off his hat with a flourish, bowed his way along the road, pursued by the shrill injunctions of the lady not to forget the ticket. Tidman walked more rapidly and less jauntily than usual, and stopped at Dr. Forge's gate to wipe his red face, which had now assumed its normal colour. "By George" said the old soldier, "that woman will marry me, if I don't take care. She ain't safe--she shouldn't be allowed out. Pewsey--a cat--a cat--I always said so. Lavinia Pewsey cat, to Benjamin Tidman gentleman. Not if I know it--ugh--ugh," and he walked up the steps to ring the bell. While waiting, his thoughts went from Miss Pewsey to Rupert. "I thought he had gone to town about that fan business," said the Major fretting, "what's he doing calling on Forge without telling me," and Tidman seemed very much annoyed that Rupert should have taken such a liberty. True enough, he found young Ainsleigh sitting with Dr. Forge. The doctor was a tall lean man with sad eyes, and a stiff manner. He was dressed in a loose white flannel suit, in a most unprofessional way. But everyone knew that Forge had money and did not practise, save when the fancy took him. With his watchful grey eyes and sad face and lantern jaws, Forge was not a prepossessing object or a medical attendant to be desired. Also his hands had a claw-like look, which, added to his thin hooked nose, made him look like a hawk. He spoke very little though, and what he did say was to the point: but he was not popular like the Major. A greater contrast than this mummy and handsome young Ainsleigh, can scarcely be imagined.