ne, or eighty-one, or some other number in what our young philosopher
calls geometrical progression--that's right, isn't it, Jack, eh?"

"Yes, I suppose so," said the lad, smiling. "Well, then, thread the
needle for us, Instow," said Sir John merrily; "and we will begin to
stitch, and be careful not to neglect our health for the future. Now
then, we're both ready."

"Yes; but I'm not," said the doctor thoughtfully. "This is a ticklish
case, and wants ticklish treatment. You see I know my patient. He is
so accustomed to one particular routine, that it will be hard to keep
him from longing for his customary work and habits. Suppose I prescribe
outdoor work, riding, walking, cricket or football, according to the
season; I shall be giving him repellent tasks to do. I can't make him a
little fellow eager and longing to begin these things which he sees his
bigger school-fellows enjoying. He would be disgusted with games
directly, because others would laugh at him and call him a muff."

"Yes," said Sir John with a sigh, "the rent has grown very large, and I
don't see how we are to sew it up."

"Neither do I," said the doctor; "it's past mending. We must have a new
coat, Jack."

"You mean a new boy, Doctor Instow," said the lad, smiling sadly. "Had
you not better let me be?"

"No," cried Sir John, bringing his fist down heavily upon he table.
"That won't do, Jack. We've done wrong, taken the wrong turning, and we
must go back and start afresh--eh, Instow?"

"Of course," said the doctor testily, "and give me time. I've got
plenty of ideas, but I want to select the right one. Ah! I have it."

"Yes," cried Sir John eagerly, and his son looked at him in dismay.

"That's the very thing. Right away from books and the ordinary routine
of life--fresh air of the best, fresh people, fresh scenes, constant
change; everything fresh but the water, and that salt."

"Some country place at the seaside," said Sir John eagerly.

"No, no; bore the boy to death; make him miserable. Seaside! No, sir,
the whole sea, and get away from the side as soon as possible."

"A sea voyage!" cried Sir John; and his son's face contracted with
horror.

"That's the thing, sir. You have always been grumbling about the
narrowness of your sphere, and envying men abroad who send and bring
such fine collections home. Be off together, and make a big collection
for yourselves of everything you come across worth saving."

"Yes; but wher