woman's eyes. "Was it aboot a bill?" she asked.

"A bill, my good woman! No, no, nothing of the kind. Dr. Dimsdale is
my name. I am the lad's father--just come up from London to see him.
I hope he has not been overworking himself?"

A ghost of a smile played about the woman's face. "I think not, sir,"
she answered.

"I almost wish I had come round in the afternoon," said the visitor,
standing with his thick legs astride upon the door-mat. "It seems a
pity to break his chain of thought. The morning is his time for study."

"Houts! I wouldna' fash aboot that."

"Well! well! The third floor, you say. He did not expect me so early,
I shall surprise the dear boy at his work."

The landlady stood listening expectantly in the passage. The sturdy
little man plodded heavily up the first flight of stairs. He paused on
the landing.

"Dear me!" he murmured. "Some one is beating carpets. How can they
expect poor Tom to read?"

At the second landing the noise was much louder. "It must be a dancing
school," conjectured the doctor.

When he reached his son's door, however, there could no longer be any
doubt as to whence the sounds proceeded. There was the stamp and
shuffle of feet, the hissing of in-drawn breath, and an occasional soft
thud, as if some one were butting his head against a bale of wool.
"It's epilepsy," gasped the doctor, and turning the handle he rushed
into the room.

One hurried glance showed him the struggle which was going on.
There was no time to note details. Some maniac was assaulting his Tom.
He sprang at the man, seized him round the waist, dragged him to the
ground, and seated himself upon him. "Now tie his hands," he said
complacently, as he balanced himself upon the writhing figure.

CHAPTER VI.

A RECTORIAL ELECTION.

It took some little time before his son, who was half-choked with
laughter, could explain to the energetic doctor that the gentleman upon
whom he was perched was not a dangerous lunatic, but, on the contrary, a
very harmless and innocent member of society. When at last it was made
clear to him, the doctor released his prisoner and was profuse in his
apologies.

"This is my father, Garraway," said Dimsdale. "I hardly expected him so
early."

"I must offer you a thousand apologies, sir. The fact is that I am
rather short-sighted, and had no time to put my glasses on. It seemed
to me to be a most dangerous scuffle."

"Don't mention it, sir," said G