"Ha! Dives," said the Baronet, as that divine, who had heard the sad news, presented himself at the now open door. "I sent for you, my dear fellow. A horrid screw in my left toe this time. Such a spoil-sport! curse it, but it won't be anything. I've sent for Pratt, and you'll tell the people at breakfast, you know, that I'm a prisoner; only a trifle though, I hope--down to dinner maybe. There's the gong--run down, like a dear fellow."
"Not flying--well fixed in the toe, eh?" said Dives, rather anxiously, for he did not like Sir Jekyl's constrained voice and sunken look.
"Quite fixed--blazing away--just the thing Pratt likes--confounded pain though. Now run down, my dear fellow, and make my excuses, but say I hope to be down to dinner, mind."
So, with another look, Dives went down, not quite comfortable, for on the whole he liked Jekyl, who had done a great deal for him; he did not like tragedies, he was very comfortable as he stood, and quite content to await the course of nature.
"Is that d--d doctor _ever_ coming?" asked Sir Jekyl, dismally.
"He'll be here, sir, please, in five minutes--so he said, sir."
"I know, but there's been _ten_ since, curse him."
"Shall I send again, sir?" asked Tomlinson.
"Do; say I'm in pain, and can't think what the devil's keeping him."
Beatrix in a moment more came running up in consternation.
"How do you feel now, papa? Gout, is it not?" she asked, having obtained leave to come in; "not very bad, I hope."
"Gout's never very pleasant, a hot thumb-screw on one's toe, my dear, but that's all; it will be nothing. Pratt's coming, and he'll get me right in a day or two--only the great toe. I beg pardon for naming it so often--very waspish though, that's all. Don't stay away, or the people will fancy something serious; and possibly I may be down, in a slipper though, to dinner. So run down, Trixie, darling."
And Trixie, with the same lingering look that Dives had cast on him, only more anxious, betook herself to the parlour as he had desired.
In a little while Doctor Pratt had arrived. As he toddled through the hall he encountered the Rev. Dives on his way to the breakfast-parlour. Pratt had suffered some rough handling and damage at the hands of Time, and Dives was nothing the better of the sarcastic manipulations of the same ancient god, since they had last met. Still they instantly recognised, and shook hands cordially, and when the salutation was over--