Part 33 (2/2)

”Rude, your honour! not I--been in the Forty-second--knows discipline--only rude to the privates!”

The Corporal, having seen his master conduct himself respectably toward the viands with which he supplied him--having set his room to rights, brought him the candles, borrowed him a book, and left him for the present in extremely good spirits, and prepared for the flight of the morrow; the Corporal, I say, now lighting his pipe, stationed himself at the door of the inn, and waited for Mr. Pertinax Fillgrave. Presently the Doctor, who was a little thin man, came bustling across the street, and was about, with a familiar ”Good evening,” to pa.s.s by the Corporal, when that worthy, dropping his pipe, said respectfully, ”Beg pardon, Sir--want to speak to you--a little favour. Will your honour walk in the back-parlour?”

”Oh! another patient,” thought the Doctor; ”these soldiers are careless fellows--often get into sc.r.a.pes. Yes, friend, I'm at your service.”

The Corporal showed the man of phials into the back-parlour, and, hemming thrice, looked sheepish, as if in doubt how to begin. It was the Doctor's business to encourage the bashful.

”Well, my good man,” said he, brus.h.i.+ng off, with the arm of his coat, some dust that had settled on his inexpressibles, ”so you want to consult me?”

”Indeed, your honour, I do; but--feel a little awkward in doing so--a stranger and all.”

”Pooh!--medical men are never strangers. I am the friend of every man who requires my a.s.sistance.”

”Augh!--and I do require your honour's a.s.sistance very sadly.”

”Well--well--speak out. Any thing of long standing?”

”Why, only since we have been here, Sir.”

”Oh, that's all! Well.”

”Your honour's so good--that--won't scruple in telling you all. You sees as how we were robbed--master at least was--had some little in my pockets--but we poor servants are never too rich. You seems such a kind gentleman--so attentive to master--though you must have felt how disinterested it was to 'tend a man what had been robbed--that I have no hesitation in making bold to ask you to lend us a few guineas, just to help us out with the bill here,--bother!”

”Fellow!” said the Doctor, rising, ”I don't know what you mean; but I'd have you to learn that I am not to be cheated out of my time and property. I shall insist upon being paid my bill instantly, before I dress your master's wound once more.”

”Augh!” said the Corporal, who was delighted to find the Doctor come so immediately into the snare;--”won't be so cruel surely,--why, you'll leave us without a s.h.i.+ner to pay my host here.”

”Nonsense!--Your master, if he's a gentleman, can write home for money.”

”Ah, Sir, all very well to say so;--but, between you and me and the bed-post--young master's quarrelled with old master--old master won't give him a rap,--so I'm sure, since your honour's a friend to every man who requires your a.s.sistance--n.o.ble saying, Sir!--you won't refuse us a few guineas;--and as for your bill--why--” ”Sir, you're an impudent vagabond!” cried the Doctor, as red as a rose-draught, and flinging out of the room; ”and I warn you, that I shall bring in my bill, and expect to be paid within ten minutes.”

The Doctor waited for no answer--he hurried home, scratched off his account, and flew back with it in as much haste as if his patient had been a month longer under his care, and was consequently on the brink of that happier world, where, since the inhabitants are immortal, it is very evident that doctors, as being useless, are never admitted.

The Corporal met him as before.

”There, Sir,” cried the Doctor, breathlessly, and then putting his arms akimbo, ”take that to your master, and desire him to pay me instantly.”

”Augh! and shall do no such thing.”

”You won't?”

”No, for shall pay you myself. Where's your wee stamp--eh?”

And with great composure the Corporal drew out a well-filled purse, and discharged the bill. The Doctor was so thunderstricken, that he pocketed the money without uttering a word. He consoled himself, however, with the belief that Walter, whom he had tamed into a becoming hypochondria, would be sure to send for him the next morning. Alas, for mortal expectations!--the next morning Walter was once more on the road.

CHAPTER II.

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