me my inspiration. The
lady will pick it up while you name your drinks to the landlord. Mine's
this liqueur brandy, neat. Let the lady pick up those notes there: a
lady has a soul above suspicion--let her collect the money, and we'll
hold a court of enquiry when this gentleman here is able to give his
evidence."

The digger was now gazing in a befogged manner at the faces around him;
and Gentle Annie, having collected all the money of the gamblers in a
tray, placed it on the small table which stood against the wall.

"Now, doctor," said a tall man with a tawny beard, "take your fee; it's
you restored the gent. Take your fee: is it two guineas, or do you make
it five?"

"'Doctor,' did you say? No, Moonlight, my respected friend, I scorn the
title. Doctors are a brood that batten on the ills of others. First day:
'A pain internally, madam? Very serious. I will send you some medicine.
Two guineas. Yes, the sum of two guineas.' Next day: 'Ah, the pain is no
better, madam? Go on taking the medicine. Fee? Two guineas, _if_ you
please.' And so on till the pain cures itself. If not, the patient grows
worse, dies, is buried, and the doctor's fees accrue proportionately.
But we will suppose that the patient has some incurable tumour. The
doctor comes, examines, looks wise, shakes his head, says the only
chance is to operate; but it will be touch and go, just a toss up. He
gets his knives, opens up the patient, and by good luck touches no vital
part. Then the patient is saved, and it's 'My work, gentlemen, entirely
my work. That's what skill will do. My fee is forty-five guineas.'
That's how he makes up for the folks that don't pay. Doctor, _me_? No,
Moonlight, my friend, I am a practitioner who treats for love. No fee;
no fee at all. But, Annie, my dear, I'll trouble you for that glass of
brandy."

The digger was contemplating Tresco's face with a look of bewildered
astonishment. "An' who the blanky blank are _you_?" he exclaimed, with
all his native uncouthness. "What the blank do you want to take my
clo'es off of me for? Who the blue infernal----" All eyes were fixed on
his contused countenance and the enormous bump on his temple. "Ah!
there's the gent that shook me of five quid. I'll remember you, old
party. An' as for you two spielers--you thought to fleece me. I'll give
you what for! An' there's the other toff, 'im that biffed me. Fancy
bein' flattened out by a toney remittance man! Wonderful. I call it
British pluck, r