ping from a window, and placed himself within view for a
good many minutes thereafter)--her ladyship understood the meaning of
the "business phrase," and owned that it had been correctly applied.

She made no further effort, and the whole trivial episode came to an
end--but it had had its effect upon Leonore.

CHAPTER X.

THE THIRD CASE.

"Hollo there! Where are you off to?"--Dr. Craig hailed his young
assistant who was just setting forth from the surgery door; "I want you,
Tommy."

Tommy stood still. He had thought the doctor out for the day, and had
not heard the wheels of the returning gig. Otherwise--well, perhaps
otherwise, he would have been busy within doors, not starting out into
the sunshine of a brilliant June morning.

"Where are you off to?"--repeated his interrogator, and this time an
answer to the question was necessary.

"I was going to the Abbey, sir." An observant person might have noted
that the young man would have preferred not to say it, and a very
observant person might also have seen that he shifted the parcel in his
hand, and moved his feet uneasily.

Dr. Craig however either saw nothing or affected to do so. "To the
Abbey? Who's ill there?" he said, quickly. "Anything sudden?"

"No, sir. Mrs. Stubbs----"

"Mrs. Stubbs? What's wrong with her? I saw her on the road yesterday."

"She called here, but you were out. There's nothing much the matter, but
she wanted a tonic. I--I forgot to mention it."

"And you forgot something else, mister. No tonics go out from here that
I don't prescribe. Here, give me that bottle. What's this? Trash. If
Mrs. Stubbs wants a tonic----"

"She merely mentioned that she was not feeling quite the thing, sir; and
I--it was my suggestion----"

"A damned impudent suggestion. Now look here, young man, there must be
no more of such suggestions, or you and I must part. You taking it upon
yourself to prescribe for my patients! Bless my soul!"--but the
delinquent was a favourite, and suddenly a humorous twinkle appeared
beneath the frowning eyebrows. "You poor devil, what mischief is this?
Hey? You blush like a girl? Come in here," pushing him gently back
through the open door--"come in, and I'll prescribe for _you_, Mr.
Thomas Andrews. I had an inkling something of this sort was going on,
and--and I'm not blaming you, my boy. But it's _you_ that needs the
tonic, not that little widow-witch up yonder. Aye, you may turn red and
white and glower at me--I