"With great pleasure, Father; Mr. Berwick will find that I can speak
four."

"Not now, my dear. I warn you, Jones, that I shall watch over you very
carefully while you are with us. I am responsible to the hospital
surgeon for your health, and I cannot be a party to your extinction."

"How many sentences did you speak then, Father?"

"It depends on how you punctuate," he replied.

"Mr. Berwick," said Lydia, "Father pretends that he is not talkative,
but don't you believe him. He can easily talk you to sleep."

The Doctor was almost gay, that is, for the Doctor. His eyes shone. He
did not cease to look at me, except when he looked at Lydia. For the
time, Lydia had a severer countenance than her father's. I ate. I
thanked my stars for the conversation that was covering my ignoble
performance.

"Doctor," I asked, pausing for breath, "is there any news of Willis?"

"Willis is doing well enough. The ball has been extracted; it was only a
buck-shot, as you rightly surmised."

"How do you know what I surmised, Doctor?"

"Willis told the surgeon of your supposition, giving you full credit
for the origin of it. By the way, that was a famous bandage you