"Get somebody from the hospital staff to do your work."
"Hear, hear!" said Pip.
Dr. Wilmot gazed into the fire. Presently he said,—
"It's not altogether professional work. Pip, you said just now that you were a blamed fool. Your father is another."
"Let us hear all about it," said Pipette maternally.
"Well, I am a prosperous man as professional men go. But a few years ago I realised a good many of my investments—"
"What does that mean?"
"I sacrificed my savings to get ready money, to finance that private cancer-research commission that Sir John Lindon and I got up,—you remember, Pip?"
"Yes; go on."
"Well, the Government ultimately paid the expenses of the commission,—we shamed them into it,—and I got my money back. When I came to reinvest it, instead of putting it into the old safe place, I devoted most of it to buying shares in a wild-cat Australian scheme—"