’Money matters!  Very well—­very well; money matters.  That is your idea of medical practice.  Very well—­very well.  Is my post-chaise at the door?  I’ll publish it all to the medical world—­every word—­every word of it, every word of it.’

‘Publish what, you unreasonable man?’

’Man! sir; whom do you call a man?  I’ll let you know whether I’m a man—­post-chaise there!’

’Don’t ’ee call him names now, doctor; don’t ’ee pray don’t ‘ee,’ said Lady Scatcherd.

By this time they had all got somewhere nearer the hall-door; but the Scatcherd retainers were too fond of the row to absent themselves willingly at Dr Fillgrave’s bidding, and it did not appear that any one went in search of the post-chaise.

’Man! sir; I’ll let you know what it is to speak to me in that style.  I think, sir, you hardly know who I am.’

’All that I know of you at present is, that you are my friend Sir Roger’s physician, and I cannot conceive what has occurred to make you so angry.’  And as he spoke, Dr Thorne looked carefully at him to see whether that pump-discipline had in truth been applied.  There were no signs whatever that cold water had been thrown upon Dr Fillgrave.

’My post-chaise—­is my post-chaise there?  The medical world shall know all; you may be sure, sir, the medical world shall know it all;’ and thus, ordering his post-chaise and threatening Dr Thorne with the medical world, Dr Fillgrave made his way to the door.

But the moment he put on his hat he returned.  ‘No, madam,’ said he.  ’No; quite out of the question:  such an affair is not to be arranged by such means.  I’ll publish it all to the medical world—­post-chaise there!’ and then, using all his force, he flung as far as he could into the hall a light bit of paper.  It fell at Dr Thorne’s feet, who, raising it, found that it was a five-pound note.

‘I put it into his hat just while he was in his tantrum,’ said Lady Scatcherd.  ’And I thought that perhaps he would not find it till he got to Barchester.  Well I wish he’d been paid, certainly, although Sir Roger wouldn’t see him;’ and in this manner Dr Thorne got some glimpse of understanding into the cause of the great offence.

‘I wonder whether Sir Roger will see me,’ said he, laughing.

CHAPTER XIII

THE TWO UNCLES

‘Ha! ha! ha!  Ha! ha! ha!’ laughed Sir Roger, lustily, as Dr Thorne entered the room.  ’Well, if that ain’t rich, I don’t know what is.  Ha! ha! ha!  But why didn’t they put him under the pump, doctor?’

The doctor, however, had too much tact, and too many things of importance to say, to allow of his giving up much time to the discussion of Dr Fillgrave’s wrath.  He had come determined to open the baronet’s eyes as to what would be the real effect of his will, and he had also to negotiate a loan for Mr Gresham, if that might be possible.  Dr Thorne therefore began about the loan, that being the easier subject, and found that Sir Roger was quite clear-headed as to his many money concerns, in spite of his illness.  Sir Roger was willing enough to lend Mr Gresham more money—­six, eight, ten, twenty thousand; but then, in doing so, he should insist on possession of the title-deeds.