th you that little vermin Price, the doctor, and treat him
well. He'll be as indiscreet as you wish, and be sure to give him the
opportunity. There, now, give me your most affectionate grasp of the hand,
for there's an attentive public watching us.'

CHAPTER LVII

A DOCTOR

Young O'Shea made the journey from Kilbeggan to Kilgobbin Castle in total
unconsciousness. The symptoms had now taken the form which doctors call
concussion; and though to a first brief question he was able to reply
reasonably and well, the effort seemed so exhausting that to all subsequent
queries he appeared utterly indifferent; nor did he even by look
acknowledge that he heard them.

Perfect and unbroken quiet was enjoined as his best, if not his only,
remedy; and Kate gave up her own room for the sick man, as that most remote
from all possible disturbance, and away from all the bustle of the house.
The doctors consulted on his case in the fashion that a country physician
of eminence condescends to consult with a small local practitioner. Dr.
Rogan pronounced his opinion, prophetically declared the patient in danger,
and prescribed his remedies, while Price, agreeing with everything, and
even slavishly abject in his manner of concurrence, went about amongst the
underlings of the household saying, 'There's two fractures of the frontal
bone. It's trepanned he ought to be; and when there's an inquest on the
body, I'll declare I said so.'

Though nearly all the care of providing for the sick man's nursing fell
to Kate Kearney, she fulfilled the duty without attracting any notice
whatever, or appearing to feel as if any extra demand were made upon her
time or her attention; so much so, that a careless observer might have
thought her far more interested in providing for the reception of the aunt
than in cares for the nephew.

Dick Kearney had written to say that Miss Betty was so overwhelmed with
affliction at young Gorman's mishap that she had taken to bed, and could
not be expected to be able to travel for several days. She insisted,
however, on two telegrams daily to report on the boy's case, and asked
which of the great Dublin celebrities of physic should be sent down to see
him.

'They're all alike to me,' said Kilgobbin; 'but if I was to choose, I think
I'd say Dr. Chute.'

This was so far unlucky, since Dr. Chute had then been dead about forty
years; scarcely a junior of the profession having so much as heard his
name.

'We re