The doctor mentioned Greatorex of Manchester, the celebrated brain specialist.  And Horace took Sidney to Manchester.  They had to wait an hour and a quarter to see Greatorex, his well-known consulting-rooms in John Dalton Street being crowded with imperfect brains; but their turn came at last, and they found themselves in Greatorex’s presence.  Greatorex was a fat man, with the voice of a thin man, who seemed to spend the whole of his career in the care of his fingernails.

‘Well, my little fellow,’ said Greatorex, ‘don’t cry.’ (For Sidney was already crying.) And then to Horace, in a curt tone:  ’What is it?’

And Horace was obliged to humiliate himself and relate the accident in detail, together with all that had subsequently happened.

‘Yes, yes, yes, yes!’ Greatorex would punctuate the recital, and when tired of ‘yes’ he would say ‘Hum, hum, hum, hum!’

When he had said ‘hum’ seventy-two times he suddenly remarked that his fee was three guineas, and told Horace to strengthen Sidney all he could, not to work him too hard, and to bring him back in a year’s time.

Horace paid the money, Greatorex emitted a final ‘hum’, and then the stepbrothers were whisked out by an expeditious footman.  The experience cost Horace over four pounds and the loss of a day’s time.  And the worst was that Sidney had a violent attack that very night.

School being impossible for him, Sidney had intermittent instruction from professors of both sexes at home.  But he learnt practically nothing except the banjo.  Horace had to buy him a banjo:  it cost the best part of a ten-pound note; still, Horace could do no less.  Sidney’s stature grew rapidly; his general health certainly improved, yet not completely; he always had a fragile, interesting air.  Moreover, his deafness did not disappear:  there were occasions when it was extremely pronounced.  And he was never quite safe from these attacks in the head.  He spent a month or six weeks each year in the expensive bracing atmosphere of some seaside resort, and altogether he was decidedly a heavy drain on Horace’s resources.  People were aware of this, and they said that Horace ought to be happy that he was in a position to spend money freely on his poor brother.  Had not the doctor predicted, before the catastrophe due to Horace’s culpable negligence, that Sidney would grow into a strong man, and that his deafness would leave him?  The truth was, one never knew the end of those accidents in infancy!  Further, was not Sidney’s sad condition slowly killing his mother?  It was whispered about that, since the disaster, Sidney had not been quite sound mentally.  Was not the mere suspicion of this enough to kill any mother?

And, as a fact, Mrs Carpole did die.  She died of quinsy, doubtless aggravated by Sidney’s sad condition.