"Not at present," answered Mr. Spolger, emphatically. "I always accustom myself to the temperature of a place by degrees. A sudden chill is worse than damp feet."
"Will you have some tea, Mr. Spolger?" asked Judith, for the footman had now brought in the teapot and a plate of toast.
"No, thank you," answered the hypochondriac, politely. "I'm undergoing a course of medicine just now, and tea in my present condition means death."
"Then have some toast," said Florry, laughingly, presenting him with the plate.
"Buttered," said Mr. Spolger, looking at the plate. "Horrible! The worst thing in the world for me! I take dry toast for breakfast, with a glass of hot water—nothing more."
"I hope you don't intend me to breakfast like that," said Florry, saucily.
"My dear, you can eat what you like," answered Mr. Spolger, solemnly producing his little book. "Should you suffer from your indiscretion, I have always got the remedy in this."
"Did the medicine Dr. Japix prescribed do you good?" asked Judith.
"Not a bit," said Spolger, slowly taking off his coat. "I still suffer from sleeplessness. However, I've got a new idea I'm going to carry out. Cold water bandages at the head, and a hot brick at the feet. There, now my coat is off I feel beautiful."
"Well! well!" said Mr. Marson, rather impatient of all this medical talk, "I hope you'll be quite well for your wedding."