a more gentleman-like,
agreeable, well-informed man than he is."

"Thank you. I can choose my acquaintances for myself."

"You touchy ass!" said Thurnall to himself. "If we were in the blessed
state of nature now, wouldn't I give you ten minutes' double thonging,
and then set you to work, as the runaway nigger did his master, Bird
o' freedom Sawin, till you'd learnt a thing or two." But blandly still
he went on.

"Try the dumb-bells then. Nothing like them for opening your chest.
And do get a high desk made, and stand to your writing instead of
sitting." And Tom actually made Vavasour promise to do both, and bade
him farewell with--

"Now, I'll send you up a little tonic; and trouble you with no more
visits till you send for me. I shall see by one glance at your face
whether you are following my prescriptions. And, I say, I wouldn't
meddle with those opiates any more; try good malt and hops instead."

"Those who drink beer, think beer," said Elsley, smiling; for he
was getting more hopeful of himself, and his terrors were vanishing
beneath Tom's skilful management.

"And those who drink water, think water. The Elizabethans--Sidney and
Shakspeare, Burleigh and Queen Bess, worked on beef and ale,--and you
would not class them among the muddle-headed of the earth: Believe me,
to write well, you must live well. If you take it out of your brain,
you must put it in again. It's a question of fact. Try it for
yourself." And off Tom went; while Lucia rushed back to her husband,
covered him with caresses, assured him that he was seven times as ill
as he really was, and so nursed and petted him, that he felt himself,
for that time at least, a beast and a fool for having suspected her
for a moment. Ah, woman, if you only knew how you carry our hearts in
your hands, and would but use your power for our benefit, what angels
you might make us all!

"So," said Tom, as he went home, "he has found his way to the
elevation-bottle, has he, as well as Mrs. Heale? It's no concern of
mine: but as a professional man, I must stop that. You will certainly
be no credit to me if you kill yourself under my hands."

Tom went straight home, showed the blacksmith how to make a pair of
dumb-bells, covered them himself with leather, and sent them up the
next morning with directions to be used for half an hour morning and
evening.

And something--whether it was the dumb-bells, or the tonic, or
wholesome fear of the terrible doctor--kept Elsle