ising. "None the
less, Major d'Arcy, my dear sir, you shall be abroad again in a week
if--I say, and mark me sir, I say it with deepest emphasis--if you will
brisk up, banish gloomy thought and melancholy, cultivate joy, sit i'
the sun, eat well, drink moderately and sleep as much as possible."

"A copious prescription, sir!" sighed the Major wearily.

"Brisk?" snorted Lord Cleeve, "brisk, is it? Refuse me but he's as
brisk and joyous as a gallows! Here he sits, hunched up in that old
service coat and glooms and glowers all day, and when night draws on,
damns his bed, curses himself, and wishes his oldest friend to the
devil and that's me sir--his friend I mean."

"Stay, never that, George," smiled the Major, shaking protesting head.

"But ya' curst gloomy Jack, none the less."

"This won't do," smiled Dr. Ponderby, "won't do at all. Gloom must we
dissipate----"

"Dissipate!" exclaimed the Colonel, "dissipate--aye man, but he won't
drink and the Oporto's the right stuff you'll allow----"

"He must have company----"

"Well and aren't I company?"

"The very best, my lord----"

"Not to mention Viscount Tom and----"

"Very true sir," smiled the doctor, "only you don't either of you
happen to wear petticoats----"

"Petticoats!" exclaimed the Colonel, rolling his eyes.

"Petticoats are my prescription, my lord--plenty of 'em and taken
often. A house is a gloomy place without 'em----'

"Agad and ya' right there--ya' right there!" nodded the Colonel
vehemently.

"No!" protested the Major.

"Yes!" cried the Colonel. "Look at my place in Surrey, the damndest,
dreariest curst hole y'ever saw----"

"Nay George, when I saw it last it was----"

"A plaguy, dreary hole, Jack!" snapped the Colonel. "Used to wonder
why I couldn't abide the place--reason perfectly plain to-day--lacks a
petticoat, and Jack man, a petticoat I'm a-going to have soon, man,
soon ha, and so shall you begad!"

"Never!" said the Major drearily.

"Now hark to the poor, curst wretch, 'tis the woefullest dog!"
exclaimed the Colonel feelingly, "won't drink and no petticoats! Man
Jack, I tell thee woman is to man his--his--well, she's a woman, and
man without woman's gentle and purifying influence is--is only--only
a--well, man. Look at me. After all these years, Jack 'tis a
petticoat for me."

The Major murmured the old adage about one man's meat being another
man's poison, whereon his lordship snarled and rolled his eyes as he