into his room by degrees; and when he can bear
it, drench him with it. Never mind what the old school tell you. About
these things they know a good deal less than nothing."

Lady Cicely received all this like an oracle.

The cure was telegraphed to Dr. Barr, and he was requested to settle the
fee. He was not the man to undersell the profession, and was jealous
of nobody, having a large practice, and a very wealthy wife. So he
telegraphed back--"Fifty guineas, and a guinea a mile from London."

So, as Christopher Staines sat at an early breakfast, with the carriage
waiting to take him to the train, two notes were brought him on a
salver.

They were both directed by Lady Cicely Treherne. One of them contained a
few kind and feeling words of gratitude and esteem; the other, a check,
drawn by the earl's steward, for one hundred and thirty guineas.

He bowled up to London, and told it all to Rosa. She sparkled with
pride, affection, and joy.

"Now, who says you are not a genius?" she cried. "A hundred and thirty
guineas for one fee! Now, if you love your wife as she loves you--you
will set up a brougham."

CHAPTER VIII.

Doctor Staines begged leave to distinguish; he had not said he would
set up a carriage at the first one hundred guinea fee, but only that he
would not set up one before. There are misguided people who would call
this logic: but Rosa said it was equivocating, and urged him so warmly
that at last he burst out, "Who can go on forever saying 'No,' to
the only creature he loves?"--and caved. In forty-eight hours more a
brougham waited at Mrs. Staines's door. The servant engaged to drive
it was Andrew Pearman, a bachelor, and, hitherto, an under-groom. He
readily consented to be coachman, and to do certain domestic work as
well. So Mrs. Staines had a man-servant as well as a carriage.

Ere long, three or four patients called, or wrote, one after the other.
These Rosa set down to brougham, and crowed; she even crowed to Lady
Cicely Treherne, to whose influence, and not to brougham's, every one of
these patients was owing. Lady Cicely kissed her, and demurely enjoyed
the poor soul's self-satisfaction.

Staines himself, while he drove to or from these patients, felt more
sanguine, and buoyed as he was by the consciousness of ability, began to
hope he had turned the corner.

He sent an account of Lord Ayscough's case to a medical magazine: and so
full is the world of flunkeyism, that this article