fter the basket was handed in to Martha; and then the
doctor washed his hands, changed his hat, and signified to Aunt Hannah
where they were going.

"That's right, my dear, I thought you would," said the old lady,
beaming. "Going too, Vane, my dear?"

"Yes, aunt."

"That's right. I hope you will find him better."

Vane hoped so, too, in his heart, as he walked with his uncle to the
gardener's cottage, conjuring up all kinds of suffering, and wondering
whether the man had been ill all the night; and, to make matters worse,
a deep groan came from the open bedroom window as they approached.

Vane looked at his uncle in horror.

"Good sign, my boy," said the doctor cheerfully. "Not very bad, or he
would not have made that noise. Well, Mrs Bruff," he continued, as the
woman appeared to meet them at the door, "so Ebenezer is unwell?"

"Oh, yes, sir, dreadful. He was took badly about two o'clock, and he
has been so queer ever since."

"Dear me," said the doctor. "Do you know what has caused it?"

"Yes, sir," said the woman, beginning to sob; "he says it's those nasty
toadstools Master Vane brought, and gave me to cook for his tea. Ah,
Master Vane, you shouldn't have played us such a trick."

Vane looked appealingly at his uncle, who gave him a reassuring nod.

"You cooked them then?" said the doctor.

"Oh, yes, sir, and we had them for tea, and the nasty things were so
nice that we never thought there could be anything wrong."

"What time do you say your husband was taken ill?"

"About two o'clock, sir."

"And what time were you taken ill?"

"Me, sir?" said the woman staring. "I haven't been ill."

"Ah! You did not eat any of the--er--toadstools then?"

"Yes, sir, I did, as many as Ebenezer."

"Humph! What time did your husband come home last night?"

"I don't know, sir, I was asleep. But I tell you it was about two when
he woke me up, and said he was so bad."

"Take me upstairs," said the doctor shortly; and he followed the woman
up to her husband's room, leaving Vane alone with a sinking heart, and
wishing that he had not ventured to give the chanterelles to the
gardener's wife.

He could not sit down but walked about, listening to the steps and
murmur of voices overhead, meaning to give up all experiments in edible
fungi for the future, and ready to jump as he heard the doctor's heavy
step again crossing the room, and then descending the stairs, followed
by Bruff's wife.

"Do you thin