er all become man and wife.

There were two ladies whom it behoved him to see on the day of
his arrival--whom, indeed, he generally saw every day except when
absent from Greshamsbury. The first of these--first in the general
consideration of the people of the place--was the wife of the squire,
Lady Arabella Gresham, a very old patient of the doctor's. Her it was
his custom to visit early in the afternoon; and then, if he were able
to escape the squire's daily invitation to dinner, he customarily
went to the other, Lady Scatcherd, when the rapid meal in his own
house was over. Such, at least, was his summer practice. "Well,
doctor, how are they at Boxall Hill?" said the squire, way-laying him
on the gravel sweep before the door. The squire was very hard set for
occupation in these summer months.

"Quite well, I believe."

"I don't know what's come to Frank. I think he hates this place now.
He's full of the election, I suppose."

"Oh, yes; he told me to say he should be over here soon. Of course
there'll be no contest, so he need not trouble himself."

"Happy dog, isn't he, doctor? to have it all before him instead of
behind him. Well, well; he's as good a lad as ever lived--as ever
lived. And let me see; Mary's time--" And then there were a few very
important words spoken on that subject.

"I'll just step up to Lady Arabella now," said the doctor.

"She's as fretful as possible," said the squire. "I've just left
her."

"Nothing special the matter, I hope?"

"No, I think not; nothing in your way, that is; only specially
cross, which always comes in my way. You'll stop and dine to-day,
of course?"

"Not to-day, squire."

"Nonsense; you will. I have been quite counting on you. I have a
particular reason for wanting to have you to-day--a most particular
reason." But the squire always had his particular reasons.

"I'm very sorry, but it is impossible to-day. I shall have a letter
to write that I must sit down to seriously. Shall I see you when I
come down from her ladyship?" The squire turned away sulkily, almost
without answering him, for he now had no prospect of any alleviation
to the tedium of the evening; and the doctor went upstairs to his
patient. For Lady Arabella, though it cannot be said that she was
ill, was always a patient. It must not be supposed that she kept her
bed and swallowed daily doses, or was prevented from taking her share
in such prosy gaieties as came from time to time in the way of h