a barrister, or a clergyman, or a
Member of Parliament (it was what Lady Verner said), would cost vast
sums of money; a commission could be obtained for him gratis, in
consideration of his father's services.

"Make me an apothecary," said Jan.

"An apothecary!" echoed Lady Verner, aghast. "That's not a gentleman's
calling."

Jan opened his great eyes. Had he taken a liking for carpentering, he
would have deemed it gentlemanly enough for him.

"What has put an apothecary's business into your head?" cried Lady
Verner.

"I should like the pounding," replied Jan.

"The pounding!" reiterated Lady Verner, in astonishment.

"I should like it altogether," concluded Jan, "I wish you'd let me go
apprentice to Dr. West."

Jan held to his liking. In due course of time he was apprenticed to Dr.
West, and pounded away to his heart's content. Thence he went to London
to walk the hospitals, afterwards completing his studies in Paris. It
was at the latter period that the accident happened to Jan that called
Lionel to Paris. Jan was knocked down by a carriage in the street, his
leg broken, and he was otherwise injured. Time and skill cured him. Time
and perseverance completed his studies, and Jan became a licensed
surgeon of no mean skill. He returned to Deerham, and was engaged as
assistant to Dr. West. No very ambitious position, but "it's good enough
for Jan," slightingly said Lady Verner. Jan probably thought the same,
or he would have sought a better. He was four-and-twenty now. Dr. West
was a general practitioner, holding an Edinburgh degree only. There was
plenty to do in Deerham and its neighbourhood, what with the rich and
what with the poor. Dr. West chiefly attended the rich himself and left
Jan to take care of the poor. It was all one to Jan.

Jan sat on the counter in the surgery, pounding and pounding. He had
just come in from his visit to Deerham Court, summoned thither by the
slight accident to his sister Decima. Leaning his two elbows on the
counter, his pale, puffy cheeks on his hands, and intently watching Jan
with his light eyes, was a young gentleman rising fifteen, with an apron
tied round his waist. This was Master Cheese; an apprentice, as Jan once
had been. In point of fact, the pounding now was Master Cheese's proper
work, but he was fat and lazy, and as sure as Jan came into the surgery,
so sure would young Cheese begin to grunt and groan, and vow that his
arms were "knocked off" with the work. Jan,