“No hurry!” the Big Doctor would answer; “five per cent. is good enough for me!”

The Doctor, alone of all Dick’s friends, sympathised with Major Talbot-Lowry in the matter of the tenants, and he condemned the conduct of his own son, Barty, as heartily as did Dick that of his nephew, in their dealings with the Coppinger estate.

“’Tis impossible to hold these young fellows,” he said, severely, while he and Dick strolled slowly round the weedy flower garden of Mount Music, one sunny August afternoon, four years after Larry’s coming of age; “You may be sure that I pointed out to Barty that he and Larry were playing the deuce with you over the sale, but what could I do?  After all, Barty had to obey the orders he got from his boss!”

“I know, I know,” responded Dick.  “My dear fellow, I don’t blame you, my own cousin’s a different pair of shoes!  Richard may fight it out with the tenants when I’m gone.  He’ll have to marry money.  Why, my God!  If I sold at these fellows’ price, the property would hardly clear itself!  At least,” Dick cleared his throat and picked himself up with a guilty jerk, as does a horse who stumbles from carelessness, “at least, it would cover the charges, and—­and the mortgages of course—­but not much more—­”

Dr. Mangan looked straight in front of him, as became a mortgagee of delicate feeling, and said with some elaborateness, “No man need be anxious about money whose security is Irish land, nowadays.  ’Tis daily appressiating in value.”

“To every man except the owner!”

Dick struck hard with his ash-plant at a tall weed as he spoke, and decapitated it with the grace and dexterity of the old cavalryman.  He put force enough into the cut to have felled a tougher foe.

“This place is turned into a wilderness—­” he went on and then, staggering, caught at the Doctor’s thick arm.

In an instant the Big Doctor had his other arm round Dick’s shoulders, and held him firm.

“Stand still, Major, it’s nothing!  You’ll be all right in a minute!” he said, meeting Dick’s frightened eyes with reassuring steadiness.  “The sun’s very hot.  It’s only a touch of giddiness—­”

He stood, a great rock of support, uttering leisurely words of consolation, while he quietly slipped one hand down the Major’s arm, until his broad, perceptive finger-tips could feel the faint pulse jerking under their pressure.

Dick’s colour crept back, and the veins, that had shown blue on the sudden yellow of his cheek, began to lose their vividness.

“That’s more like it!” said the Doctor, tranquilly.  “Do you sit quite here for a minute, now, and I’ll go get you a drop of something from our friend, Mr. Evans, that’ll do you no harm!”

He established his patient on a garden seat, and left him, moving slowly until he knew he was no longer in sight; then he swung into the house, with swift strides that would have compelled a smaller man to run, if he were to keep level with him.