“Only show the stuff,” I said.
“Ah, yes; show the result,” said the doctor. “But come in, Duncan, the tea’s waiting, and I want a cup myself.”
“And I am regularly tired out,” cried my father. “Here, Sam, feed the pony well, for he has worked hard.”
Sam, who had heard the pony coming, took the rein and led it off to the stable, while I followed my father into the little parlour, where the doctor caught him by the arm.
“Here’s the specimen, father,” I said; but he did not turn his head, for the doctor was speaking to him.
“Did you get the deeds?” he said.
“Chowne, you’re as good as a witch,” cried my father.
“Why?”
“As I came out of the lawyer’s office, who should I see but old Jonas Uggleston coming along the street, and as I went into the hotel I saw him turn in where I had been.”
“But did you get the deeds?” cried the doctor.