one had some story of her pride, neglect, or bad
housewifery. 'And I can tell you,' said Mr. Walby, 'that I am not in
their good books for declaring that I never saw anything from her but
very pretty, affable manners.'

With these words they reached the house; and with sighs and murmurs of
'Ah! poor young man!' Mr. Walby followed Louis to the landing-place,
where they both paused, looking at each other in doubt how to effect an
entrance, Louis suddenly remembering that no presence would be more
intolerable to the patient than that of a trustee. However, there was
nothing for it but to walk in, and announce, as a matter of course,
that he had thought it right to call in Mr. Walby.

The extremity of displeasure brought James to his feet, and out into
the passage, saying, with grave formality, that he was much obliged,
and glad to see Mr. Walby as a friend, but Lord Fitzjocelyn was
mistaken in thinking him in need of his advice. Many thanks, he would
trouble him no further; and affecting a laugh, he said that Fitzjocelyn
seemed never to have heard of a bad headache.

'Acting does not mend matters, Jem,' said Louis. 'You had much better
confess how really ill you are.'

Excessive giddiness made James stagger against his cousin, and Louis,
throwing his arms round him, looked in great alarm to the doctor for
help, but was answered by something very like a smile. 'Aye, aye, sir,
there's nothing for it but to go to bed. If his lordship there had
seen as many cases of jaundice as I have, he would not look so
frightened. Very wholesome disorder! Yes, lie down, and I'll send you
a thing or two to take.'

So saying, Mr. Walby helped Louis to lay their unwilling invalid on the
bed without much resistance or reply, and presently departed, so
infinitely relieved that he could not help indulging in a little
chuckle at the young Viscount's mistake. As soon as he was gone, James
revived enough to protest that it was all nonsense, doctors must needs
give a name to everything; if they would only let him alone, he should
be himself and off to London in two hours; and that it was Fitzjocelyn
himself who was looking excessively ill, and as yellow as a guinea. He
would not hear of undressing and going absolutely to bed, and fairly
scolded every one out of sight. Good Miss Mercy, who had trotted in at
the tidings of illness, stood at the nursery-door, telegraphing signs
of commiseration in answer to Louis's looks of perplexity.