once then, he do
take a drop too much at times, and then he has the horrors--what is
it they call it? delicious beam-ends, or something of that sort."

"Oh, ah, yes; I know; and tell me, my man, who is attending him?"

"Attending him? why, I do, and his mother, that is, her ladyship."

"Yes; but what medical attendant: what doctor?"

"Why, there was Greyson, in London, and--"

"Greyson!" and the doctor looked as though a name so medicinally
humble had never before struck the tympanum of his ear.

"Yes; Greyson. And then, down at what's the name of the place, there
was Thorne."

"Greshamsbury?"

"Yes; Greshamsbury. But he and Thorne didn't hit it off; and so since
that he has had no one but myself."

"I will be at Boxall Hill in the course of the morning," said Dr
Fillgrave; "or, rather, you may say, that I will be there at once: I
will take it in my way." And having thus resolved, he gave his orders
that the post-horses should make such a detour as would enable him
to visit Boxall Hill on his road. "It is impossible," said he to
himself, "that I should be twice treated in such a manner in the same
house."

He was not, however, altogether in a comfortable frame of mind as he
was driven up to the hall door. He could not but remember the smile
of triumph with which his enemy had regarded him in that hall; he
could not but think how he had returned fee-less to Barchester, and
how little he had gained in the medical world by rejecting Lady
Scatcherd's bank-note. However, he also had had his triumphs since
that. He had smiled scornfully at Dr Thorne when he had seen him in
the Greshamsbury street; and had been able to tell, at twenty houses
through the county, how Lady Arabella had at last been obliged to
place herself in his hands. And he triumphed again when he found
himself really standing by Sir Louis Scatcherd's bedside. As for Lady
Scatcherd, she did not even show herself. She kept in her own little
room, sending out Hannah to ask him up the stairs; and she only just
got a peep at him through the door as she heard the medical creak of
his shoes as he again descended.

We need say but little of his visit to Sir Louis. It mattered
nothing now, whether it was Thorne, or Greyson, or Fillgrave. And Dr
Fillgrave knew that it mattered nothing: he had skill at least for
that--and heart enough also to feel that he would fain have been
relieved from this task; would fain have left this patient in the
hands even of