"Oh, I am sure you are much better as you are!" I exclaimed, with such
earnestness that we both laughed. And at this moment Mr. Bellingham
entered the room carrying several large and evidently brand-new books in
a strap.

"Well, I'm sure!" he exclaimed genially; "here are pretty goings on.
Doctor and patient giggling like a pair of schoolgirls! What's the
joke?"

He thumped his parcel of books down on the table and listened smilingly
while my unconscious witticism was expounded.

"The Doctor's quite right," he said. "You'll do as you are, chick; but
the Lord knows what sort of man you would make. You take his advice and
let well alone."

Finding him in this genial frame of mind, I ventured to explain my
proposition to him and to enlist his support. He considered it with
attentive approval, and when I had finished turned to his daughter.

"What is your objection, chick?" he asked.

"It would give Doctor Berkeley such a fearful lot of work," she
answered.

"It would give him a fearful lot of pleasure," I said. "It would,
really."

"Then why not?" said Mr. Bellingham. "We don't mind being under an
obligation to the Doctor, do we?"