conditions of men," with which the doctor was entrusted.
"You've spoiled them," said his wife, clinging to his arm. "They think you only live for them. Mr. Elms," said Mrs. Courtenay, turning to him, "I charge you to bring my husband safe back. If anything befall him, I hold you responsible."
Pale and worn the man shrank from her imploring gaze. He was about to speak. By some chance his eyes met Malduke's, and he was silent.
"Thank you very much, I am able to look after myself," was the doctor's laughing reply. "I wish I could feel as easy about you and these simple children all."
"Larry, my boy," laying his hand affectionately on his son-in-law's arm, "you will, I know, be patient and long-suffering." The strong man's voice quivered.
"Governor, if necessary, I'll give my life for them—for your sake," was the reply.
"Hush, Larry, do not say that," expostulated Hilda, in whose breast, like that of her mother, a vague dread lay.
"I'll hold the reins, bless you, with a hand of velvet," continued the Irishman, reassuringly, "I won't even tickle them with the spur. I'll just tool them along, without their knowing it, over every bit of fence we have to take together. Never fear," he continued, "we'll all be in at the death."
Again the young wife's hand twitched involuntarily on that of her husband.
"Tell my landlady in Loundes Street," called out Tom Lord, "that I'll be back to pay her my little bill. And, if you're passing, old man, pop in at Hill's, Bond Street, and inform him that my last coat pinches abominably under
