"Why you look as well and young and strong as--"

"As you ought to be, sir. Why, Jack, boy, I could beat you at anything
except books--walk you down, run you down, ride, jump, row, play
cricket, shoot, or swim."

"Yes, father, I know," sighed the lad.

"But I'm ashamed to do anything of the kind when I see you moping like a
sick bird in a cage."

"But I'm quite well, father, and happy--at least I should be if you were
only satisfied with me."

"And I do want to see you happy, my boy, and I try to be satisfied with
you. Now look here: come out with me more. I want to finish my
collection of the _diptera_. Suppose you help me, and then we'll make
another collection--birds say, or--no, I know: we'll take up the British
fishes, and work them all. There's room there. It has never been half
done. Why, what they call roach vary wonderfully. Even in two ponds
close together the fish are as different as can be, and yet they call
them all roach. Look here--we'll fish and net, and preserve in spirits,
and you'll be surprised how much interest you will find in it combined
with healthy exercise."

"I'll come with you, father, if you wish it," said the lad.

"Bah! That's of no use. I don't want you to come because I wish it. I
want you to take a good healthy interest in the work, my boy. But it's
of no use. I am right; you have worked too hard, and have read till
your brain's getting worn out. There, I am right, Jack. You are not
well."

"Doctor Instow, Sir John," said a servant, entering.

"Humph! lost no time," muttered the baronet. "Where is he, Edward?"

"In the drawing-room, Sir John."

"I'll come. No; show him in here."

"Father," whispered the lad excitedly, and a hectic spot showed in each
cheek, "why has Doctor Instow come here?"

"Because I sent for him, my boy."

"But not to see me?" said the lad excitedly. "Indeed I am quite well."

"No, you are not, boy. Yes, he has come to see you, and try to set you
right, so speak out to him like a man."

At that moment steps were heard crossing the polished oak floor of the
great hall, and directly after a keen-eyed, vigorous-looking man of
about six-and-thirty entered the room in a quick, eager way.

CHAPTER TWO.

DOCTOR INSTOW'S PRESCRIPTION.

"How are you?" he cried, rather boisterously, to Sir John, shaking hands
warmly. "Well! no need to ask. And how are you, my Admirable
Crichton?" he said, turning to Jack to continue the hand