“No, young idiot; yours—your father’s,” said the Doctor, rather sharply. “Hang that organ!”
“Yes, they are a nuisance,” said the younger man, as one of the popular tunes was struck up just inside the square.
“Well, what about the mine, sir?”
“Only this, my lad: I’ve got a few thousands put aside; you know that.”
“Yes, sir; I supposed you had.”
“Oh, you knew,” said the Doctor suspiciously.
“Yes; I think I heard something of the kind.”
“Humph!”
“There, Doctor, don’t take up that tone. Give me Janet, and leave your money to a hospital.”
“No; hang me if I do! I haven’t patience with them, sir. The way in which hospitals are imposed upon is disgraceful. People who ought to be able to pay for medical and surgical advice go and sponge upon hospitals in a way that—Oh, hang it, that’s not what I wanted to say. Look here, Clive, if this new mine—”