be only too glad to feel that there is a
cabbage in the garden to cut, and a potato to dig. Vane, my boy, will
you come and hold the basket?"

"No, uncle; I'll soon dig a few, and cut the cauliflower," said Vane,
hastily; and he hurried toward the door.

"I'll go with you, my boy," said the doctor; and he went out with his
nephew, who was in a state of wondering doubt, respecting the gardener's
illness. For suppose that chanterelles were, after all, not good to
eat, and he had poisoned the man!

"Come along, Vane. We can find a basket and fork in the tool-house."

The doctor took down his straw hat, and led the way down the garden,
looking very happy and contented, but extremely unlike the Savile Row
physician, whom patients were eager to consult only a few years before.

Then the tool-house was reached, and he shouldered a four-pronged fork,
and Vane took the basket; the row of red kidney potatoes was selected,
and the doctor began to dig and turn up a root of fine, well-ripened
tubers.

"Work that is the most ancient under the sun, Vane, my boy," said the
old gentleman, smiling. "Pick them up."

But Vane did not stir. He stood, basket in hand, thinking; and the more
he thought the more uneasy he grew.

"Ready? Pick them up!" cried the doctor. "What are you thinking about,
eh?"

Vane gave a jump.

"I beg your pardon, uncle, I was thinking."

"I know that. What about?"

"Bruff being ill."

"Hum! Yes," said the doctor, lifting the fork to remove a potato which
he had accidentally impaled. "I think I know what's the matter with
Master Bruff."

"So do I, uncle. Will you come on and see him, as soon as we have got
enough vegetables?"

"Physician's fee is rather high for visiting a patient, my boy; and
Bruff only earns a pound a week. What very fine potatoes!"

"You will come on, won't you, uncle? I'm sure I know what's the matter
with him."

"Do you?" said the doctor, turning up another fine root of potatoes.
"Without seeing him?"

"Yes, uncle;" and he related what he had done on the previous afternoon.

"Indeed," said the doctor, growing interested. "But you ought to know a
chanterelle if you saw one. Are you sure what you gave Mrs Bruff were
right?"

"Quite, uncle; I am certain."

"Dear me! But they are reckoned to be perfectly wholesome food. I
don't understand it. There, pick up the potatoes, and let's cut the
cauliflowers. I'll go and see what's wrong."

Five minutes a