e dark morning, near the beginning of November--in fact, it was the
first morning of that gloomy month--Jan was busy in the surgery. Jan was
arranging things there according to his own pleasure; for Dr. West had
departed that morning early, and Jan was master of the field.

Jan had risen betimes. Never a sluggard, he had been up now for some
hours, and had effected so great a metamorphosis in the surgery that the
doctor himself would hardly have known it again: things in it
previously never having been arranged to Jan's satisfaction. And now he
was looking at his watch to see whether breakfast time was coming on,
Jan's hunger reminding him that it might be acceptable. He had not yet
been into the house; his bedroom now being the room you have heard of,
the scene of Dr. West's lost prescription. The doctor had gone by the
six o'clock train, after a cordial farewell to Jan; he had gone--as it
was soon to turn out--without having previously informed his daughters.
But of this Jan knew nothing.

"Twenty minutes past eight," quoth Jan, consulting his watch, a silver
one, the size of a turnip. Jan had bought it when he was poor: had given
about two pounds for it, second-hand. It never occurred to Jan to buy a
better one while that legacy of his was lying idle. Why should he? Jan's
turnip kept time to a moment, and Jan did not understand buying things
for show. "Ten minutes yet! I shall eat a double share of bacon this
morning.--Good-morning, Miss Deb."

Miss Deb was stealing into the surgery with a scared look and a white
face. Miss Deb wore her usual winter morning costume, a huge brown cape.
She was of a shivery nature at the best of times, but she shivered
palpably now.

"Mr. Jan, have you got a drop of ether?" asked she, her poor teeth
chattering together. Jan was too good-natured to tell Deerham those
teeth were false, though Dr. West had betrayed the secret to Jan.

"Who's it for?" asked Jan. "For you? Aren't you well, Miss Deb? Eat some
breakfast; that's the best thing."

"I have had a dreadful shock, Mr. Jan. I have had bad news. That
is--what has been done to the surgery?" she broke off, casting her eyes
around it in wonder.

"Not much," said Jan. "I have been making some odds and ends of
alteration. Is the news from Australia?" he continued, the open letter
in her hand helping him to the suggestion. "A mail's due."

Miss Deborah shook her head. "It is from my father, Mr. Jan. The first
thing I saw, upon goi