ne; 'pon my word, I believe it's just the very thing that will do
the trick. Confound you, Speug! if you haven't found out what I was
seeking after, and I've been doctoring those Muirtown sinners for more
than thirty years. Come along, laddie; we've had our consultation, and
we'll go to the patient." And Manley hurried Speug through the garden
and into the house. "Wait a minute here," said the doctor, "and I'll
come back to you." And in a little while Nestie came down-stairs and
found his friend in the lobby, confused and frightened for the first
time in his life, and Nestie saw the marks of distress upon his face.
"Doctor M-Manley told me, Speug, and" (putting an arm round his neck)
"you're the g-goodest chap in Muirtown. It's awfully d-decent of you,
and it'll p-please Bully tremendous." And then Speug went up as
consulting physician to visit Bulldog. Nestie brought him forward to the
bedside, and at last he had courage to look, and it took him all his
time to play the man when he saw Bulldog so thin, so quiet, so gentle,
with his face almost as white as the pillow, and his hands upon the
bedclothes wasted like to the hands of a skeleton. The master smiled
faintly, and seemed to be glad to see the worst of all his scholars, but
he did not say anything. Dr. Manley kept in the background and allowed
the boys to manage their own business, being the wisest of men as well
as the kindliest. Although Nestie made signs to Speug and gave him every
encouragement, Peter could not find a word, but stood helpless, biting
his lip and looking the very picture of abject misery.

"Peter has come, sir," said Nestie, "to ask for you. He is very sorry
that you are ill, and so are all the boys. Peter thought you might be
wearying to--to use the c-cane, and Peter is wearying, too. Just a
little one, sir, to p-please Speug," and Nestie laid an old cane he had
hunted up, a cane retired from service, upon the bed within reach of
Bulldog's hand. A twinkle of amusement came into the master's eye, the
first expression of interest he had shown during his illness. He turned
his head and looked at Peter, the figure of chastened mischief. The
remembrance of the past--the mathematical class-room, the blackboard
with its figures, the tricks of the boys, the scratching of the pens,
came up to him, and his soul was stirred within him. His hand closed
again upon the sceptre of authority, and Peter laid a grimy paw open
upon the bedclothes. The master gave