very soon make you feel pain enough somewhere," cried I, in towering
passion. "If you don't quit my room this moment, you old idiot, by the
bones of the Bruce I'll toss you over the stairs!"

"Oh, if that be the case, the sooner we send for a straight jacket the
better!" said the doctor. "But, eh! what! by Jove, it's the young Scotch
rascal who was making love to my daughter!"

"Dr Morgan!" I cried. "Upon my honour, sir, I am quite annoyed"----

"Hallo! what's this? We are calm enough now. Answer me directly, sir; are
you delirious or not?"

"No more than yourself, doctor."

"This, then, was a concerted trick to make a fool of me!" sputtered the
Welsh Esculapius. "But I'll be revenged. I'll have you before a magistrate
for this, you villain!"

"Upon my honour, sir, I am perfectly innocent. If you'll only hear me for
a single moment"----

"To be exposed before the whole town of Shrewsbury, too! I'll never
forgive it!" and the doctor banged out of the room. To his dismay he found
himself face to face with Cutts, who, along with the Boots, had been a
delighted auditor of the scene.

"How is our patient, doctor?" said the Saxon, "Is our pulse good to-night?
Did we take a look at our tongue?"

"Sir, you're a ruffian!" roared the doctor.

"Oh, come--we must be calm; it will never do to discompose ourselves. Take
a glass of brandy and water, doctor, and we'll drink success to the
profession. What! you won't, eh? Well then, Boots, you take one and I'll
finish the other. Here is Doctor Morgan's very good health," cried Cutts,
advancing to the head of the stairs, "and may he long continue to be an
ornament to his profession!"

"Low scoundrel!" cried one of the young gentlemen in lemon-coloured
gloves, recognising his former antagonist.

"There's the rest of it for you, my fine fellow," retorted Cutts, and the
tumbler whizzed within an inch of Young Shrewsbury's maccassared locks.

A rush was made up the staircase by several of the aggravated natives; but
Cutts stood at bay like a lion, and threatened instant death to the first
person who should approach him. The commotion was at its height when I
recognised the voice of Mr Ginger.

"Cutts, is that you? come down this instant, sir!" and the crestfallen
Saxon obeyed.

"Freddy, where are you?" cried my uncle.

"Here!"

"A pretty business you two fellows have been making of it!" said Scripio,
with wonderful mildness. "But never mind; let them laugh who win. We'v