"I think not. I shall be better able to tell you after I have been."
The doctor laughed.
"You see," went on Sophy, with a wise nod of her little head, "you can't tell how you will like things until you try them—now, can you?"
"No, certainly not. So you can tell me how you get on as I drive you home."
"Is this your serious case or mine?" asked Sophy anxiously, as the carriage drew up at a large house in a West-End square.
"This is where I hope to leave you," returned the doctor, smiling. "But you must wait until I find if it be convenient for me to do so."
Dr. Norman was shown into the library, where by the fire in an arm-chair sat an old man, one foot supported on a stool before him. His face was drawn and pinched, and his temper none of the sweetest, to judge by the curt response he made to the doctor's greeting.
"You are late this morning," was his sole remark.
"I may be slightly—but you are fast becoming independent of my care."
An unamiable grunt was the old man's reply.