The benevolent physician soon made arrangements for the comfort of his charge.  He was immediately placed in a bath, supplied with food, and dressed in decent clothing.  He submitted at once to his treatment, and permitted his attendant to do what he would with him, taking, all the while, especial care to feel the diamond ring safe and secure under the palm of his own hand.  A room was given to him and Robin, the gardener’s son, who was forthwith installed his guardian, with strict directions not to leave the patient for an instant by himself.  When Dr. Mayhew had seen every thing that could be done properly executed, he turned cheerfully to me, and bade me follow him to his library.

“His clothes have been good,” muttered the doctor to himself, as he sat down.  “Diamond ring!  He is a gentleman, or has been one.  Curious business!  Well, we shall have him advertised all round the country in a day or two.  Meanwhile here he is, and will be safe.  That trouble is over.  Now, Stukely, what brings you so early?  Any thing wrong at home?  Fairman in the dumps again; fidgety and restless, eh?”

I told my errand.

“Ah, I thought so!  There’s nothing the matter there, sir.  She is well enough now, and will continue so, if her father doesn’t frighten her into sickness, which he may do.  I tell you what, I must get little puss a husband, and take her from him.  That will save her.  I have my eye upon a handsome fellow—­Hollo, sir, what’s the matter with you!  Just look at your face in that glass.  It is as red as fire.”

“The weather, sir, is”—­

“Oh, is it?  You mean to say, then, that you are acquainted with the influences of the weather.  That is just the thing, for you can help me to a few facts for the little treatise on climate which I have got now in hand.  Well, go on, my friend.  You were saying that the weather is—­is what?”

“It is very hot, sir,” I answered, dreadfully annoyed.

“Well, so it is; that’s very true but not original.  I have heard the same remark at least six times this morning.  I say, Master Stukely, you haven’t been casting sheep’s-eyes in that sweet quarter, have you?  Haven’t, perhaps, been giving the young lady instruction as well as the boys—­eh?”

“I do not understand, sir,” I struggled to say with coolness.

“Oh, very well!” answered Dr. Mayhew dryly.  “That’s very unfortunate too, for,” continued he, taking out his watch, “I haven’t time to explain myself just now.  I have an appointment four miles away in half an hour’s time.  I am late as it is.  Williams will get you some lunch.  Tell Fairman I shall see him before night.  Make yourself perfectly at home, and don’t hurry.  But excuse me; this affair has made me quite behindhand.”