diculous Patch me up and I'll go
on till I drop. How long do you give me?"

"As I said, you may live for years; on the other hand, you may go very
suddenly."

Peter Reid sat silent for a minute; then he broke out:

"Who am I to leave my money to? Tell me that."

He spoke as if the doctor were to blame for the sentence he had
pronounced.

"Haven't you relations?"

"None."

"The hospitals are always glad of funds."

"I daresay, but they won't get them from me."

"Have you no great friends--no one you are interested in?"

"I've hundreds of acquaintances," said the rich man, "but no one has
ever done anything for me for nothing--no one."

James Lauder looked at the hard-faced little man and allowed himself to
wonder how far his patient had encouraged kindness.

A pause.

"I think I'll go home," said Peter Reid.

"The servant will call you a taxi. Where do you live?"

Peter Reid looked at the doctor as if he hardly understood.

"Live?" he said. "Oh, in Prince's Gate. But that isn't home.... I'm
going to Scotland."

"Ah," said James Lauder, "now you're talking. What part of Scotland is
'home' to you?"

"A place they call Priorsford. I was born there."

"I know it. I've fished all round there. A fine countryside."

Interest lit for a moment the dull grey eyes of Peter Reid.

"I haven't fished," he said, "since I was a boy. Did you ever try the
Caddon Burn? There are some fine pools in it. I once lost a big fellow
in it and came over the hills a disappointed laddie.... I remember what
a fine tea my mother had for me." He reached for his hat and gave a
half-ashamed laugh.

"How one remembers things! Well, I'll go. What do you say the other
man's name is? Yes--yes. Life's a short drag; it's hardly worth
beginning. I wish, though, I'd never come near you, and I would have
gone on happily till I dropped. But I won't leave my money to any
charity, mind that!"

He walked towards the door and turned.

"I'll leave it to the first person who does something for me without
expecting any return.... By the way, what do I owe you?"

And Peter Reid went away exceeding sorrowful, for he had great
possessions.

CHAPTER III

"It is the only set of the kind I ever met with in which you are
neither led nor driven, but actually fall, and that imperceptibly
into literary topics; and I attribute it to this, that in that house
literature is not a treat for company upon invitation days, but is