But I said, "Doctor—my brother Hugh John!"
Then Hugh John loomed up, with that quiet gravity which deceives strangers sometimes, his finger still keeping the place in William's Middle Kingdom, and his eyes meeting those of the Doctor level as the metals on a straight run of the railway line.
The Doctor was ready to pass the lad in order to talk with Somebody—who, as usual, lay back looking amused. But that arresting something in Hugh John's eyes, a mixture of equality and authority, halted him, as it has done so many others.
"You are reading?" said the Doctor civilly.
"Oh, no," said Hugh John, "just picking out favorite bits. Do you know The Middle Kingdom?"
Now The Middle Kingdom is an exceedingly fine book, highly technical in parts, and has to do with China. So it is no wonder that it was not so familiar to a man who for years has had to specialize on surgery as it was to the omnivorous Hugh John.
Dr. Weir Douglas shook his head as he glanced over the volume.
"It looks very stiff," he remarked; "are you getting it up for an exam.?"
Hugh John looked at him curiously. He did not approve of jests on such subjects. "I read it first when I was about ten," he said. "I only wish exams were as easy."
"Is it 'math'?" the Doctor inquired sympathetically.