examined all the bills carefully he looked very grave, and
said, "Who would believe this? We began with three thousand pounds. It
was to last us several years--till I got a good practice. Rosa, there is
only fourteen hundred and forty pounds left."

"Oh, impossible!" said Rosa. "Oh, dear! why did I ever enter a
saleroom?"

"No, no, my darling; you were bitten once or twice, but you made some
good bargains too. Remember there was four hundred pounds set apart for
my life policy."

"What a waste of money!"

"Your father did not think so. Then the lease; the premium; repairs of
the drains that would have poisoned my Rosa; turning the coach-house
into a dispensary; painting, papering, and furnishing; china, and linen,
and everything to buy. We must look at this seriously. Only fourteen
hundred and forty pounds left. A slow profession. No friends. I have
quarrelled with Uncle Philip: you with Mrs. Cole; and her husband would
have launched me."

"And it was to please her we settled here. Oh, I could kill her: nasty
cat!"

"Never mind; it is not a case for despondency, but it is for prudence.
All we have to do is to look the thing in the face, and be very
economical in everything. I had better give you an allowance for
housekeeping; and I earnestly beg you to buy things yourself whilst you
are a poor man's wife, and pay ready money for everything. My mother was
a great manager, and she always said, 'There is but one way: be your own
market-woman, and pay on the spot; never let the tradesmen get you on
their books, or, what with false weight, double charges, and the things
your servants order that never enter the house, you lose more than a
hundred a year by cheating.'"

Rosa yielded a languid assent to this part of his discourse, and it
hardly seemed to enter her mind; but she raised no objection; and in due
course he made her a special allowance for housekeeping.

It soon transpired that medical advice was to be had, gratis, at the
Bijou, from eight till ten: and there was generally a good attendance.
But a week passed, and not one patient came of the class this couple
must live by. Christopher set this down to what people call "the
transition period:" his Kent patients had lost him; his London patients
not found him. He wrote to all his patients in the country, and many of
his pupils at the university, to let them know where he was settled: and
then he waited.

Not a creature came.

Rosa bore this very well for