could be easier or more conclusive than to shake one's head and say,

"The fact is, our Doctor has been a little odd, _ever since_--!"


THE DOCTOR'S TEA-PARTY.

There is one great advantage attendant upon invitations to tea with a
doctor. No objections can be raised on the score of health. It is
obvious that it must be fine enough to go out when the Doctor asks you,
and that his tea-cakes may be eaten with perfect impunity.

Those tea-cakes were always good; to-night they were utterly delicious;
there was a perfect _abandon_ of currants, and the amount of citron
peel was enervating to behold. Then the housekeeper waited in awful
splendour, and yet the Doctor's authority over her seemed as absolute
as if he were an Eastern despot. Deordie must be excused for believing
in the charms of living alone. It certainly has its advantages. The
limited sphere of duty conduces to discipline in the household, demand
does not exceed supply in the article of waiting, and there is not that
general scrimmage of conflicting interests which besets a large family
in the most favoured circumstances. The housekeeper waits in black silk,
and looks as if she had no meaner occupation than to sit in a
rocking-chair, and dream of damson cheese.

Rustling, hospitable, and subservient, this one retired at last, and--

"Now," said the Doctor, "for the verandah; and to look at the moon."

The company adjourned with a rush, the rear being brought up by the