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‘Come on.’

After a moment a young man entered. He was muffled in overcoat and a purple woollen scarf, and his tweed cap, which he did not remove, was pulled down on his head. He was of medium height, his face was rather long and pale, his eyes looked tired.

‘Hello, Jack ! Well, Jack !’ exclaimed Malcolm and Joe. Fred Henry merely said: ‘Jack.’

‘What’s doing ?’ asked the newcomer, evidently addressing Fred Henry.

‘Same. We’ve got to be out by Wednesday. Got a cold ?’

‘I have—got it bad, too.’

‘Why don’t you stop in ?’

‘Me stop in ? When I can’t stand on my legs, perhaps I shall have a chance.’ The young man spoke huskily. He had a slight Scotch accent.

‘It’s a knock-out, isn’t it,’ said Joe, boisterously, ‘if a doctor goes round croaking with a cold. Looks bad for the patients, doesn’t it
?’

The young doctor looked at him slowly.

‘Anything the matter with you then ?’ he asked sarcastically.

‘Not as I know of. Damn your eyes, I hope not. Why ?’

‘I thought you were very concerned about the patients, wondered if you might be one yourself.’

‘Damn it, no, I’ve never been a patient to no flaming doctor, and hope I never shall be,’ returned Joe.

At this point Mabel rose from the table, and they all seemed to become aware of their existence. She began putting the dishes together. The young doctor looked at her, but did not address her. He had not greeted her. She went out the room with the tray, her face impassive and unchanged.

‘When are you off then, all of you ?’ asked the doctor.

‘I’m catching the eleven-forty,’ replied Malcolm.’Are you goin’ down wi’ th’ trap, Joe ?’

‘Yes, I’ve told you I’m going down wi’ th’ trap, haven’t I ?’

‘We’d better be getting in then. So long, Jack, if I don’t see you before I go,’ said Malcolm, shaking hands.

He went out, followed by Joe, who seemed to have his tail between his legs.

‘Well, this is the devil’s own,’ exclaimed the doctor, when he was left alone with Fred Henry.’Going before Wednesday, are you ?’

‘That’s the orders,’ replied the other.

‘Where, to Northampton ?’

‘That’s it.’

‘The devil !’ exclaimed Fergusson, with quiet chagrin.

And there was silence between the two.

‘All settled up, are you ?’ asked Fergusson.

‘About.’

There was another pause.

‘Well, I shall miss yer, Freddy, boy,’ said the young doctor.

‘And I shall miss thee, Jack,’ returned the other.

‘Miss you like hell,’ mused the doctor.

Fred Henry turned aside. There was nothing to say. Mabel came in again, to finish clearing the table.

‘What are you going to do, then, Miss Pervin ?’ asked Fergusson.’Going to your sister’s, are you ?’

Mabel looked at him with her steady, dangerous eyes, that always made him uncomfortable, unsettling his superficial ease.

‘No,’ she said.

‘Well, what in the name of fortune are you going to do ? Say what you mean to do,’ cried Fred Henry, with futile intensity.

But she only averted her head, and continued her work. She folded the white table-cloth, and put on the chenille cloth.

‘The sulkiest bitch that ever trod !’ muttered her brother.

But she finished her task with perfectly impassive face, the young doctor watching her interestedly all the while. Then she went out.

Fred Henry stared after her, clenching his lips, his blue eyes fixing in sharp antagonism, as he made a grimace of sour exasperation.

‘You could bray her into bits, and that’s all you’d get out of her,’ he said, in a small, narrowed tone.

The doctor smiled faintly.

‘What’s she going to do, then ?’ he asked.

‘Strike me if I know !’ returned the other.

There was a pause. Then the doctor stirred.

‘I’ll be seeing you to-night, shall I ?’ he said to his friend.