l, it came to this: that he could make
neither head nor tail of his patient's symptoms, but that, as they were
clearly the result of a course of treatment at the hands of an
unqualified practitioner, it was improbable that Mr. Walkingshaw would
recover from the consequences of his error.

In the afternoon he was told that his father would like to see him. He
had finished the _Scotsman_ and begun a conversation with his betrothed
in a gently facetious vein, but it took him not a moment to adjust his
features to the rigidity of an urn, and save for the faint squeaking of
his boots, he ascended the stairs with noiseless solemnity. He found Mr.
Walkingshaw propped up on pillows and breathing heavily. The demeanor of
both was exactly becoming to the situation.

"Are you suffering much pain?" inquired the son in a hushed voice.

"It comes and goes," sighed the father. "It was just diabolical a few
minutes ago; now it's a wee thing better, thanks."

"A kind of temporary relief," suggested the son.

"Possibly, possibly. I'd like to think it was going to last, though."

"I wish I could hold out hopes," said Andrew sympathetically.

Mr. Walkingshaw stirred suddenly.

"The doctor's not given me up yet, surely?" he exclaimed in a louder
voice.

"Hush, hush! It'll only hurry things if you let yourself get excited."

"But, Andrew, my dear boy, tell me what he said to you."

The junior partner shook his head, kindly but resolutely.

"No, no; not yet awhile. So long as your mind remains clear, just keep
composed; and then, when you feel any decided change, I'll hold nothing
back from you, and we can get the rest of the family round the bedside.
You'll agree that's the best thing."

The orthodoxy of this programme ought, one would think, to have soothed
the W.S. But it is strange what fancies sick men take.

"I don't agree at all," said Mr. Walkingshaw warmly. "In fact, I may
tell you Cyrus warned me there might be kind of temporary
complications."

He looked at his son for a moment and then added, with sudden decision--

"Andrew, I'd like to see Cyrus."

A grim smile dilated Andrew's cheeks.

"You'll have to catch him first. He's off."

"Off?"

"Bolted this morning as soon as he heard he'd done for you. I hear he
owes a couple of hundred pounds in the town, one way and another. That's
your Professor for you!"

Mr. Walkingshaw groaned. His son thought it well to improve the
occasion, since he did not expect to