"Dear me! how strange."

"Then we shall have Aunt Sophia laid up," said Sir James, "for she is always committing errors in diet."

"Now, James!" began the lady in protestation.

"Now, auntie, you know you'd eat a whole cuc.u.mber on the sly, if you had the chance."

"No, no, my dear; that is too bad. I confess that I do like cuc.u.mber, but not to that extent."

"Well, Naomi, I hope you are ready for plenty of boating, now you have come down," said Scarlett. "We must brown you a bit; you are too fair.--Isn't she, Jack?"

"Not a bit," said the doctor, who was enjoying his salmon. "A lady can't be too fair."

Aunt Sophia looked at him sharply; but Jack Scales's eyes had not travelled in the direction of Naomi, and when he raised them to meet Aunt Sophia's, there was a frank ingenuous look in them that disarmed a disposition on the lady's part to set up her feathers and defend her niece.

"I think young ladies ought to be fair and pretty; don't you, ma'am?"

"Ye-es; in reason," said Aunt Sophia, bridling slightly.

"I side with you, Jack," said their host, with a tender look at his wife.

"Yes," said Prayle slowly; "one naturally expects a lady to be beautiful; but, alas! how soon does beauty fade."

"Yes, if you don't take care of it," said Aunt Sophia sharply.

"Unkindness is like a blight to a flower, and so is the misery of this world."

"So," said Scarlett, "the best thing is never to be unkind, auntie, and have nothing to do with misery--"

"If you can help it," said the doctor.

"--Or the doctors," said Scarlett, laughing--"always excepting Doctor Scales."

About this time, Aunt Sophia, who had been very stiff and distant, began to soften a little towards the doctor, and listened attentively, as the host seemed to be trying to draw him out.

"What are you doing now, Jack?" he said, after a glance round the table to see that all was going satisfactorily and well; while Lady Scarlett sat, flushed and timid, troubled with the cares of the house, and wondering whether her husband was satisfied with the preparations that had been made.

"Eating," said the doctor drily, "and to such an extent, that I am blushing inwardly for having such a dreadful appet.i.te."

"I suppose," said Prayle, "that a good appet.i.te is a sign of good health?"

"Sometimes," said the doctor. "There are morbid forms of desire for food.--What say?"

"I repeated my question," said Scarlett, laughing. "What are you doing now?"

"Well, I am devoting myself for the most part to the study of nervous diseases," said the doctor. "There seems to be more opening there than in any other branch of my profession, and unless a man goes in for a speciality, he has no chance."

"Come, Aunt Sophia," said Scarlett, merrily; "here's your opportunity.

You are always complaining of your nerves."

"Of course I am," said the old lady sharply; "and no wonder."

"Well, then, why not engage Doctor Scales as your private physician, before he is s.n.a.t.c.hed up?"

"All, before I'm s.n.a.t.c.hed up, Miss Raleigh. Don't you have anything to do with me, madam. Follow your nephew's lead, and take to gardening-- There is medicine in the scent of the newly turned earth, in the air you breathe, and in the exercise, that will do you more good than any drugs I can prescribe."

"There you are, aunt; pay up."

"Pay up? Bless the boy! what do you mean?" said Aunt Sophia.

"A guinea. Physician's fee."

"Stuff and nonsense!" said Aunt Sophia.--"But I don't want to be rude to you, Doctor Scales, and I think it's worth the guinea far more than many a fee I've paid for what has done me no good."

"I've got a case in hand," said the doctor, going on with his dinner, but finding time to talk. "I've a poor creature suffering from nervous shock. Fine-looking, gentlemanly fellow as you'd wish to see, but completely off his balance."

"Bless the man! don't talk about mad people," said Aunt Sophia.

"No, ma'am, I will not. He's as sane as you are," said the doctor; "but his nerve is gone, he dare not trust himself outside the house; he cannot, do the slightest calculation--write a letter--give a decisive answer. He would not take the shortest journey, or see any one on business. In fact, though he could do all these things as well as any of us, he doesn't, and, paradoxical as it may sound, can't."

"But why not?" said Scarlett.

"Why not? Because his nerve has gone, he dare not sleep without some one in the next room. He could not bear to be in the dark. He cannot trust himself to do a single thing for fear he should do it wrong, or go anywhere lest some terrible accident should befall him."

"What a dreadful man!" cried Aunt Sophia.

"Not at all, my dear madam; he's a splendid fellow."

"It must be terrible for his poor wife, Doctor Scales."

"No, ma'am, it is not, because he has no wife; but it is very trying to his sweet sister."

"I say, hark at that," said Scarlett, merrily--"'his sweet sister.'

Ahem, Jack! In confidence, eh?"

"What do you mean?" cried the doctor, as the ladies smiled.

"I say--you know--his sweet sister. Is that the immortal she?"

"What? My choice? Ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha?" laughed the doctor, with enjoyable mirth. "No, no; I'm cut out for a bachelor. No wedding for me. Bah! what's a poor doctor to do with a wife! No, sir; no, sir.

I'm going to preserve myself free of domestic cares for the benefit of all who may seek my aid."

"Well, for my part," said Aunt Sophia, "I think it must be a very terrible case."

"Terrible, my dear madam."

"But you will be able to cure him?"

"I hope so; but indeed that is all I can say. Such cases as this puzzle the greatest men."