the dying man. At the end of the month the physicians wondered, and
named another fortnight. The old man lived on wine alone, but at
the end of the fortnight he still lived; and the tidings of the
fall of the ministry became more frequent. Sir Lamda Mewnew and Sir
Omicron Pie, the two great London doctors, now came down for the
fifth time, and declared, shaking their learned heads, that another
week of life was impossible; and as they sat down to lunch in the
episcopal dining-room, whispered to the archdeacon their own
private knowledge that the ministry must fall within five days. The
son returned to his father's room, and after administering with his
own hands the sustaining modicum of madeira, sat down by the
bedside to calculate his chances.

The ministry were to be out within five days: his father was to be
dead within--No, he rejected that view of the subject. The ministry
were to be out, and the diocese might probably be vacant at the
same period. There was much doubt as to the names of the men who
were to succeed to power, and a week must elapse before a Cabinet
was formed. Would not vacancies be filled by the out-going men
during that week? Dr Grantly had a kind of idea that such would be
the case, but did not know; and then he wondered at his own
ignorance of such a question.

He tried to keep his mind away from the subject, but he could not.
The race was so very close, and the stakes were so very high. He
then looked at the dying man's impassive, placid face. There was no
sign there of death or disease; it was something thinner than of
yore, somewhat grayer, and the deep lines of age more marked; but,
as far as he could judge, life might yet hang there for weeks to
come. Sir Lamda Mewnew and Sir Omicron Pie had thrice been wrong,