ipping the loose ravellings from his
patient's bandages, "an old man like you should not have enemies."

"I am _not_ an old man, sir!"

"I said _young_ man."

"I am not a _young_ man, sir!"

"I wonder who the fellow was," continued Doctor Keene, as he readjusted
the ripped sleeve.

"That is _my_ affair, sir; I know who it was."

* * * * *

"And yet she insists," M. Grandissime was asking Frowenfeld, standing
with his leg thrown across the celestial globe, "that I knocked her down
intentionally?"

Frowenfeld, about to answer, was interrupted by a rap on the door.

"That is my cousin, with the carriage," said M. Grandissime, following
the apothecary into the shop.

Frowenfeld opened to a young man,--a rather poor specimen of the
Grandissime type, deficient in stature but not in stage manner.

"_Est il mort_?" he cried at the threshold.

"Mr. Frowenfeld, let me make you acquainted with my cousin, Achille
Grandissime."

Mr. Achille Grandissime gave Frowenfeld such a bow as we see now only in
pictures.

"Ve'y 'appe to meck, yo' acquaintenz!"

Agricola entered, followed by the doctor, and demanded in indignant
thunder-tones, as he entered:

"Who--ordered--that--carriage?"

"I did," said Honore. "Will you please get into it at once."

"Ah! dear Honore!" exclaimed the old man, "always too kind! I go in it
purely to please you."

Good-night was exchanged; Honore entered the vehicle and Agricola was
helped in. Achille touched his hat, bowed and waved his hand to Joseph,
and shook hands with the doctor, and saying, "Well, good-night. Doctor
Keene," he shut himself out of the shop with another low bow. "Think I
am going to shake hands with an apothecary?" thought M. Achille.

Doctor Keene had refused Honore's invitation to go with them.

"Frowenfeld," he said, as he stood in the middle of the shop wiping a
ring with a towel and looking at his delicate, freckled hand, "I
propose, before going to bed with you, to eat some of your bread and
cheese. Aren't you glad?"

"I shall be, Doctor," replied the apothecary, "if you will tell me what
all this means."

"Indeed I will not,--that is, not to-night. What? Why, it would take
until breakfast to tell what 'all this means,'--the story of that
pestiferous darky Bras Coupe, with the rest? Oh, no, sir. I would sooner
not have any bread and cheese. What on earth has waked your curiosity so
suddenly, anyhow?"

"Have you any idea wh