“Nonsense, you prejudiced humbug. I want you to see the fun. You will come?”
“My dear James Scarlett, I do not get on at my profession, I know now why. It is from weakness of will. I see it now. You have taught me that lesson this morning. First, I find myself listening to a rigmarole about growing fruit under glass. Now I am weakly consenting to make myself as much a schoolboy as you in your verdant idyllic life.”
“Then you’ll come?”
“Oh, yes,” said the doctor grimly, “I’ll come. Shall I go into the mud after eels?”
“If you like, I’ll lend you a pair of old trousers. I shall.”
“My dear fellow, I shall be attending you one of these days for paralysis brought on by cold; or spinal—”
“Nancy, two big glasses of new milk,” cried Sir James, for they had entered the dairy. “I say, Jack, old fellow, I want to give you a little more of my natural history lecture, because it would be sure to help me on.”
“I feel,” said the doctor, “as if I had a soft collar round my neck, and was being led about by a chain. There, make the most of me while I’m here, you don’t catch me down again.”
“Don’t I?” said Sir James. “Why, my dear Jack, Kitty and I have made up our minds to find you a wife.”