Ridgeon.  Indeed.  Who taught you to speak of Sir Patrick Cullen as old Paddy Cullen, you young ruffian?

Redpenny.  You never call him anything else.

Ridgeon.  Not now that I am Sir Colenso.  Next thing, you fellows will be calling me old Colly Ridgeon.

Redpenny.  We do, at St. Anne’s.

Ridgeon.  Yach!  Thats what makes the medical student the most disgusting figure in modern civilization.  No veneration, no manners—­no—­

Emmy [at the door, announcing].  Sir Patrick Cullen. [She retires].

Sir Patrick Cullen is more than twenty years older than Ridgeon, not yet quite at the end of his tether, but near it and resigned to it.  His name, his plain, downright, sometimes rather arid common sense, his large build and stature, the absence of those odd moments of ceremonial servility by which an old English doctor sometimes shews you what the status of the profession was in England in his youth, and an occasional turn of speech, are Irish; but he has lived all his life in England and is thoroughly acclimatized.  His manner to Ridgeon, whom he likes, is whimsical and fatherly:  to others he is a little gruff and uninviting, apt to substitute more or less expressive grunts for articulate speech, and generally indisposed, at his age, to make much social effort.  He shakes Ridgeon’s hand and beams at him cordially and jocularly.

Sir Patrick.  Well, young chap.  Is your hat too small for you, eh?

Ridgeon.  Much too small.  I owe it all to you.

Sir Patrick.  Blarney, my boy.  Thank you all the same. [He sits in one of the arm-chairs near the fireplace.  Ridgeon sits on the couch].  Ive come to talk to you a bit. [To Redpenny] Young man:  get out.

Redpenny.  Certainly, Sir Patrick [He collects his papers and makes for the door].

Sir Patrick.  Thank you.  Thats a good lad. [Redpenny vanishes].  They all put up with me, these young chaps, because I’m an old man, a real old man, not like you.  Youre only beginning to give yourself the airs of age.  Did you ever see a boy cultivating a moustache?  Well, a middle-aged doctor cultivating a grey head is much the same sort of spectacle.

Ridgeon.  Good Lord! yes:  I suppose so.  And I thought that the days of my vanity were past.  Tell me at what age does a man leave off being a fool?

Sir Patrick.  Remember the Frenchman who asked his grandmother at what age we get free from the temptations of love.  The old woman said she didn’t know. [Ridgeon laughs].  Well, I make you the same answer.  But the world’s growing very interesting to me now, Colly.

Ridgeon.  You keep up your interest in science, do you?

Sir Patrick.  Lord! yes.  Modern science is a wonderful thing.  Look at your great discovery!  Look at all the great discoveries!  Where are they leading to?  Why, right back to my poor dear old father’s ideas and discoveries.  He’s been dead now over forty years.  Oh, it’s very interesting.