he cried.

"I am sure I thought you did," said Lady Verner. "I supposed it to have
been a prearranged thing between you and Jan. Lionel," looking up into
his face with an expression of care, and lowering her voice, "but for
that hundred and forty pounds, I don't see how I could have gone on. You
had been very liberal to me, but somehow debt upon debt seemed to come
in, and I was growing quite embarrassed. Jan's money set me partially
straight. My dear--as you see you are no 'burden,' as you call it, you
will give up this London scheme, will you not, and remain on?"

"I suppose I must," mechanically answered Lionel, who seemed buried in
thought.

He did suppose he must. He was literally without money, and his
intention had been to ask the loan of a twenty-pound note from generous
Jan, to carry him to London, and keep him there while he turned himself
about, and saw what could be done. How could he ask Jan now? There was
little doubt that Jan had left himself as void of ready cash as he,
Lionel, was. Dr. West's was not a business where patients went and paid
their guinea fee, two or three dozen patients a day. Dr. West (or Jan
for him) had to doctor his patients for a year, and send in his modest
bill at the end of it, very often waiting for another year before the
bill was paid. Sibylla on his hands, and no money, he did not see how he
was to get to London.

"But just think of it," resumed Lady Verner. "Jan's savings for nearly
three years of practice to amount only to a hundred and forty pounds! I
questioned him pretty sharply, asking him what on earth he could have
done with his money, and he acknowledged that he had given a good deal
away. He said Miss West had borrowed some, the doctor kept her so short;
then Jan, it seems, forgot to put down the expenses of the horse to the
general account, and that had to come out of his pocket. Another thing
he acknowledged having done. When he finds the poor can't conveniently
pay their bills, he crosses it off in the book, and furnishes the money
himself. He has not common-sense, you know, Lionel; and never had."

Lionel caught up his hat, and went out in the moment's impulse, seeking
Jan. Jan was in the surgery alone, making up pills, packing up
medicines, answering callers; doing, in fact, Master Cheese's work.
Master Cheese had a headache, and was groaning dismally in consequence
in an arm-chair, in front of Miss Deb's sitting-room fire, and sipping
some hot elder wine,