futile attempt to get the amount suggested reduced by a half.

"It's no good," he grumbled, "teaching the young devil extravagant ways. A hundred is plenty for him with what he's got. In fact I thought from the fuss that Leuchars made about his getting that-that-what do you call the d-d thing?-oh, scholarship is it? well, I thought from the fuss Leuchars made that it would keep him altogether. What the devil is the good of a scholarship if it does not keep him altogether, I should like to know?"

"Well, it helps, sir," said Graham quietly, "and so to a certain extent saves"-and here he hesitated between the two pronouns "my" and "your," and finally compromised the matter by admitting joint-ownership-" our pocket. I've had a talk to a few fellows who have been up to Oxford themselves, and they seemed to say about two hundred and fifty to be comfortable and do things, so I thought one ought to leave a small margin."

"Then he will have to pay for his food at home--he eats a lot," said the Squire, making a second rather mean bid for the extra hundred.

It was as much as Graham could do to keep his countenance, but knowing his father's methods, and feeling that to laugh out loud would be fatal, he merely smiled and clinched the matter by bringing forward an entirely new proposition made on the spur of the moment.

"The boy has got a good healthy appetite of his own, I admit, sir; but perhaps he won't trouble you much in the vacation. I have no doubt he could get a tutorship most of the Long at some place where he would get the run of his teeth and something into his pocket into the bargain."

This idea did not commend itself at all to the Squire, who, having a sort of dog-in-the-manger affection for Dick, had been heard to grumble long and loudly when the end of the school holidays robbed him of his younger son's society.

"D-n your tutorship!" he ejaculated with charming in

"You don't suppose that I grudge my own son

consistency.
his board and lodging."

On the very next day the Squire, taking full credit to himself for Graham's generosity, informed Dick that henceforth and till further notice he would be allowed two hundred

a-year.

"And a very fine allowance I call it for a young fellow of your age. There is no necessity for your spending it all, of course, but I won't have you running into debt, mind."

This warning, which, coming from a man who habitually lived beyond his means, might have sounded to other ears than Dick's almost comical, was in this particular case unnecessary. Some instincts both the brothers had inherited from their mother, and a wholesome horror of running into debt was among them. Nor was there any particular necessity even to stint expenses, and it so happened that Dick's accident, debarring him from ball-games and the incidental expenses attached to them, rendered him unintentionally more economical than he might otherwise have been. However, there was the money, and disregarding that other suggestion made by his father, Dick managed as a rule to spend it very comfortably. But to his credit be it said, having a very justifiable notion that there was a fairly heavy doctor's bill accumulating at Oxford, he had wisely allowed a certain fund to accumulate at the same time in order to meet the bill when it was sent in. The home doctor's fees were-such was the young man's argument-a part of his home expenses, and therefore to be defrayed by his father, but the Oxford doctor was a College expense to be debited to himself.

It had come, therefore, in the light of a pleasant surprise when the Oxford doctor on being invited, as he at last gave Mr Loder his congé, to send in his account, flatly refused to do anything of the sort.

"If you get measles or smallpox, my dear fellow," he said, growing rather red in the face as he spoke, come to me to be tinkered up and I will send you in a whacking big bill, but I

really can't make any charge for accidents;" and having told this astonishing lie with the very best grace at his command, medico dismissed his grateful patient, shut the door carefully after him, and then throwing himself into an armchair, indulged in a hearty fit of laughter.

"I hope the young beggar-nice boy too-won't go off and send me half-a-dozen other fellows with broken limbs, by way of showing his gratitude. What a humbug I am when all is said and done, but I really could not go and give Mr Ferrier away after that," and he slapped his pocket by way of assuring himself that "that" was still there. "That" had arrived about two hours previously, and took the form of a very graceful letter of thanks to Mr Roden for his care and attention, and a cheque for twenty-five guineas in payment of somewhere about a year's term-time doctoring of Mr Richard Loder, and both these documents were signed by Laurence Ferrier. And there had been a word of warning conveyed in a postscript: "You will, I am sure, say nothing about this to your patient." Ferrier had his own way of doing things-ways which, lawyer though he was, were commonly short, straight, and to the point. He had in this instance employed the very simple process of running down to Oxford in January, and after making inquiries of one or two reputable tradesmen as to who was the best young surgeon in Oxford, he had called upon Mr Roden, explained the object of his mission, and even offered a very handsome cheque in advance for services to be rendered. There, and there only, the surgeon drew the line, basing his objection on grounds which made Lawrence say to himself, fortunately on this occasion not out loud

"What unfeeling beasts these doctors can be!"

"Oh no, my dear sir," Roden had said, "that is quite unnecessary, I assure you. Why, it wants a whole fortnight to the beginning of term, and the lad might break his neck or have his arm taken off in the mean time. A fracture in itself may be a very simple thing, but is very often followed or accompanied by complications. Why, my dear sir, I have known

cases of men who have had a fracture of this kind, and it has gone on perfectly well to all appearances for a'week or a fortnight or more, and then something has gone wrong and there has had to be a resort to amputation. Indeed I won't say that under certain surroundings mortification might not set in. However, you say that your young friend is a healthy subject, so we will hope that all will go on well. But I can't really hear of receiving a fee beforehand. So good morning, Mr Ferrier: if Mr Loder comes up at the beginning of term, send him to me and I will look after him."

And as there were no very untoward results in the outset from the broken arm, Dick Loder came up to Oxford towards the end of January, and having received a friendly note from Laurence Ferrier to the effect that it would be very kind of him, in case the arm gave any trouble, to call in a clever young surgeon, who, as the writer happened to know, was anxious to get on in his profession, he acted on the suggestion, and calling in Mr Roden, eventually had very good cause to be grateful that he had done so.

For a man who has to re-break and re-set a badly united fracture, and then ostensibly charges nothing for his trouble, is a veritable godsend, were he the most confirmed croaker in creation.

L

162

CHAPTER XI.

STILL OXFORD.

A DILEMMA is, as M'Gregor had described it, a queer sort of beast if good, undeniably good; if faulty, then the sort of animal that might pass muster with a careless or indifferent judge, but liable to be returned on hand as unsound where a lengthy trial is allowed.

Breakfasting with Chetwynde, as was his custom, on the morning after his dinner with Tom M'Gregor, Dick Loder, having certain weighty matters in his mind, anxious to take Chetwynde into his confidence, yet not having evolved on his own account a satisfactory opening for a conversation on a rather ticklish subject, swallowed his food in silence for a considerable time, and then rather basely attempted to pass off on his companion the dilemma which he had himself rejected.

"I say, Chettie," he remarked quite suddenly, "I am going to give you a dilemma."

"Well, give me another sausage first, old chap. I'm parlous hungry. Thanky," as Dick complied with the request. "Now, what's the other thing I was going to have a dilemma, wasn't it? Fire away, only I say, bar sells, old Dick."

"Oh, there's no catch about it. It was only why one played loo."

"Because one is an ass, I suppose," exclaimed Chetwynde, converting the beast into a trilemma at once, even before it had