s distributing coffee, and alternating the
task by cutting bread-and-butter--thin-thick for her brother Hendon, who
was reading a sporting paper, and thin-thin for Dr Chartley, who was
gazing in an abstracted manner at a paper before him, and making notes
from time to time with a gilt pencil-case.

He was a bland-looking, handsome man, with stiff white cravat, and that
suave, softly-smiling aspect peculiar to fashionable physicians; but the
fashion had gone, though the smile remained, to be shed upon his two
children instead of upon the patients who came no more.

The breakfast progressed, with Hendon eagerly taking in the detail of
the last Australian boat-race, and the doctor making a calculation for
the variation of the compound that was the dream of his life, till, as
it was finally ended, he bent forward, and said softly, "Truly thankful,
amen!"

Hendon Chartley rustled his paper, and doubled it up, and thrust it into
his pocket.

"But no fried bacon," he said bitterly. Dr Chartley turned his beams
upon his son, and shook his head slowly.

"Indigestible, Hendon. But never mind. Work as I do. Get to the top
of the tree, and then you can keep your carriage, and destroy your liver
with Strasburg pie."

"Bah!" said Hendon; but his father's countenance did not change.

"Going to the hospital, my boy?"

"Yes, the old dismal round. But to allay suffering. A great
profession."

"Wish it had less profession and more solid satisfaction!" said the
young man. "Good-bye, Rich."

He hurried out of the room, and the next minute the door was heard to
bang.

"An ornament to the profession some day, Richmond."

"Yes, dear, but--"

"Well, my love?" said the doctor, beaming upon her softly.

"Don't think me unkind, dear, now you are so deep in your study; but I
do really want a little help."

"Certainly, my darling, certainly. Now, that's what I like; frank
confidence on your part. You are the best of housekeepers, my child;
but I don't want you to take all the burden on your shoulders."

Richmond Hartley sighed, and the line on her broad handsome forehead;
took to itself so many puckers, which, however, did not detract from her
beauty.

"Well, my dear; speak out. You want something?"

"Yes, father; money."

"Ah!" said Dr Chartley softly, as he tapped the table with the top of
his worn pencil-case. "Money; you want money."

"Yes, father. I am horribly pressed. Poor Hendon has really not enough