"And what brings you here a second time, Doctor?" asked Mrs. Leslie, brightly, as she poured out a cup of tea and handed it to him. "Are you going to give us some advice gratis?"
"Hardly, Mrs. Leslie; in fact, I want yours."
"Mine?" exclaimed the lady, vivaciously. "It is yours, of course—but upon what subject?"
"This. You recollect that I told you my sister was coming home from
India with her children?"
"To be sure—I remember. Well?"
"Well, I have a letter from her announcing that, as she has been out of health for the last month or two, her husband does not wish her to travel yet. But her children are coming to England—they are on their way, in fact, and coming to me."
Doctor Brudenell, in making this statement, did not feel comical, but he looked so, in spite of his grave, refined, scholarly face, and Mrs. Leslie greeted his words with a burst of hearty laughter.
"My dear Doctor, don't look so tragic! The poor little creatures won't eat you. So they are coming to you? Well, what is your difficulty?"
"Merely, what am I to do with them?"
"Why, take care of them, of course!"