"And now, Scatcherd, I will say good-bye. We part as friends, don't we?"
"Oh, but doctor, you ain't going to leave me so. What am I to do? What doses shall I take? How much brandy may I drink? May I have a grill for dinner? D–––– me, doctor, you have turned Fillgrave out of the house. You mustn't go and desert me."
Dr Thorne laughed, and then, sitting himself down to write medically, gave such prescriptions and ordinances as he found to be necessary. They amounted but to this: that the man was to drink, if possible, no brandy; and if that were not possible, then as little as might be.
This having been done, the doctor again proceeded to take his leave; but when he got to the door he was called back. "Thorne! Thorne! About that money for Mr Gresham; do what you like, do just what you like. Ten thousand, is it? Well, he shall have it. I'll make Winterbones write about it at once. Five per cent., isn't it? No, four and a half. Well, he shall have ten thousand more."
"Thank you, Scatcherd, thank you, I am really very much obliged to you, I am indeed. I wouldn't ask it if I was not sure your money is safe. Good-bye, old fellow, and get rid of that bedfellow of yours," and again he was at the door.
"Thorne," said Sir Roger once more. "Thorne, just come back for a minute. You wouldn't let me send a present would you,—fifty pounds or so,—just to buy a few flounces?"
The doctor contrived to escape without giving a definite answer to this question; and then, having paid his compliments to Lady Scatcherd, remounted his cob and rode back to Greshamsbury.