Now I think he's wrong; and so I tell him." Mr Rerechild was in error here; for he had never yet ventured to tell Dr Fillgrave that he was wrong in anything.

"We must bear and forbear, you know.

Dr Thorne is an excellent man--in his way very excellent, Lady Scatcherd." This little conversation took place after Mr Rerechild's first visit to his patient: what steps were immediately taken for the relief of the sufferer we need not describe.

They were doubtless well intended, and were, perhaps, as well adapted to stave off the coming evil day as any that Dr Fillgrave, or even the great Sir Omicron Pie might have used.
And then Dr Thorne arrived.
"Oh, doctor! doctor!" exclaimed Lady Scatcherd, almost hanging round his neck in the hall.

"What are we to do?
What are we to do?
He's very bad." "Has he spoken ?" "No; nothing like a word: he has made one or two muttered sounds; but, poor soul, you could make nothing of it--oh, doctor! doctor! he has never been like this before." It was easy to see where Lady Scatcherd placed any such faith as she might still have in the healing art.