ay. But what a failure we have made!"

"No, no, not altogether," said Ned's father warmly. "We have found what
we ought to think better than riches. Eh, Wilton?"

"Hah! Brother-grumbler, we have indeed," said the other. "I never
expected to be strong again."

"And we are," said Bourne. "Strong as horses, thanks to you, Lee."

"No, no, no, I won't take the undeserved credit, my dear fellows; thank
the climate and the out-door life. The place is a regular Eden."

"Only it won't grow us food-stuffs to live upon."

"Nor fruit to sell," added Wilton. "There, we've talked it over for
years, worked till we have been worn out, and hoped against hope. The
plantations are the homes of plagues of every noxious insect under the
western sun, so let's give it up and go."

"Agreed," said the others, and the boys joined in with a hearty
"Hurrah!"

"Then you won't mind going, Ned?" said Mr Bourne.

"No, father. I should like it--for some things," replied the boy
addressed, and he looked wistfully at his companion.

"What do you say, Chris?" cried the doctor. "You want to go, then?"

"Yes, fa, I should like to go to England again, but I shall be very
sorry to go away from here, for it is very beautiful, you know."

"But you'd like the change?"

"Yes, fa," said the boy frankly, "for some things. But I shouldn't like
it if Ned Bourne were not coming too."

"Oh! I should be coming too, shouldn't I, father?" said the other lad
eagerly.

"Of course, my boy. I dare say Doctor Lee will think out some plan by
which those years of companionship may be continued," looking at his
friends.

"Oh yes," cried Wilton eagerly; "that must be managed somehow. I should
say--Who's this?"

"Company?" said Ned's father, turning to look through the open door
towards the track leading to the next plantation.

"Our Yankee neighbour," said the doctor. "What does he want?"

"It's a patient for you, Lee," said Wilton.

"Hillo, you!" cried the newcomer, in a lusty voice, but in rather a
nasal sing-song tone. "Doctor there?"

"Yes; come in," was the reply, and a tall, sun-dried, keen-looking man
in grey flannels, the legs of which were tucked into his boots, dropped
the butt of his rifle on the earthen floor with a dull thud, as he
slouched into the room, to show the assembled party that the joke about
a patient for the doctor was a good guess, and that many a true word
really is spoken in jest.

CHAPTER THREE.

THE M