. Vimpany smacked his lips in hearty approval of the worst
sherry that his guest had ever tasted. Here, plainly self-betrayed, was
a medical man who was an exception to a general rule in the
profession--here was a doctor ignorant of the difference between good
wine and bad!

Both the ladies were anxious to know how Mountjoy had passed the night
at the inn. He had only time to say that there was nothing to complain
of, when Mr. Vimpany burst into an explosion of laughter.

"Oh, but you must have had something to complain of!" said the big
doctor. "I would bet a hundred, if I could afford it, that the landlady
tried to poison you with her sour French wine."

"Do you speak of the claret at the inn, after having tasted it?"
Mountjoy asked.

"What do you take me for?" cried Mr. Vimpany. "After all I have heard
of that claret, I am not fool enough to try it myself, I can tell you."
Mountjoy received this answer in silence. The doctor's ignorance and
the doctor's prejudice, in the matter of wine, had started a new train
of thought in Hugh's mind, which threatened serious consequences to Mr.
Vimpany himself. There was a pause at the table; nobody spoke. The
doctor saw condemnation of his rudeness expressed in his wife's face.
He made a rough apology to Mountjoy, who was still preoccupied. "No
offence, I hope? It's in the nature of me, sir, to speak my mind. If I
could fawn and flatter, I should have got on better in my profession.
I'm what they call a rough diamond. No, offence, I say?"

"None whatever, Mr. Vimpany."

"That's right! Try another glass of sherry."

Mountjoy took the sherry.

Iris looked at him, lost in surprise. It was unlike Hugh to be
interested in a stranger's opinion of wine. It was unlike him to drink
wine which was evidently not to his taste. And it was especially unlike
his customary courtesy to let himself fall into thought at dinner-time,
when there were other persons at the table. Was he ill? Impossible to
look at him, and not see that he was in perfect health. What did it
mean?

Finding Mountjoy inattentive, Mr. Vimpany addressed himself to Iris.

"I had to ride hard, Miss Henley, to get home in time for dinner. There
are patients, I must tell you, who send for the doctor, and then seem
to think they know more about it than the very man whom they have
called in to cure them. It isn't he who tells them what their illness
is; it's they who tell him. They dispute about the medical treatment
t