Crossjay jumped up beside the doctor, who remarked, as he touched his horse:  “I don’t want a man this morning, though I’ll enlist you in my service if I do.  You’re fond of Miss Middleton?”

Instead of answering, Crossjay heaved the sigh of love that bears a burden.

“And so am I,” pursued the doctor:  “You’ll have to put up with a rival.  It’s worse than fond:  I’m in love with her.  How do you like that?”

“I don’t mind how many love her,” said Crossjay.

“You’re worthy of a gratuitous breakfast in the front parlour of the best hotel of the place they call Arcadia.  And how about your bed last night?”

“Pretty middling.”

“Hard, was it, where the bones haven’t cushion?”

“I don’t care for bed.  A couple of hours, and that’s enough for me.”

“But you’re fond of Miss Middleton anyhow, and that’s a virtue.”

To his great surprise, Dr. Corney beheld two big round tears force their way out of this tough youngster’s eyes, and all the while the boy’s face was proud.

Crossjay said, when he could trust himself to disjoin his lips: 

“I want to see Mr. Whitford.”

“Have you got news for him?”

“I’ve something to ask him.  It’s about what I ought to do.”

“Then, my boy, you have the right name addressed in the wrong direction:  for I found you turning your shoulders on Mr. Whitford.  And he has been out of his bed hunting you all the unholy night you’ve made it for him.  That’s melancholy.  What do you say to asking my advice?”

Crossjay sighed.  “I can’t speak to anybody but Mr. Whitford.”

“And you’re hot to speak to him?”

“I want to.”

“And I found you running away from him.  You’re a curiosity, Mr. Crossjay Patterne.”

“Ah! so’d anybody be who knew as much as I do,” said Crossjay, with a sober sadness that caused the doctor to treat him seriously.

“The fact is,” he said, “Mr. Whitford is beating the country for you.  My best plan will be to drive you to the Hall.”

“I’d rather not go to the Hall,” Crossjay spoke resolutely.

“You won’t see Miss Middleton anywhere but at the Hall.”

“I don’t want to see Miss Middleton, if I can’t be a bit of use to her.”

“No danger threatening the lady, is there?”

Crossjay treated the question as if it had not been put.

“Now, tell me,” said Dr. Corney, “would there be a chance for me, supposing Miss Middleton were disengaged?”

The answer was easy.  “I’m sure she wouldn’t.”

“And why, sir, are you so cock sure?”

There was no saying; but the doctor pressed for it, and at last Crossjay gave his opinion that she would take Mr. Whitford.

The doctor asked why; and Crossjay said it was because Mr. Whitford was the best man in the world.  To which, with a lusty “Amen to that,” Dr. Corney remarked:  “I should have fancied Colonel De Craye would have had the first chance:  he’s more of a lady’s man.”