seem to have forgotten my practical medical ministration, and our brief
interview had a surprising result. From that moment he confounded his
parents and doctors by resolutely and positively refusing to take any
more of their pills, tonics, or drops. Whether from a sense of
loyalty to me, or whether he was not yet convinced of the efficacy of
homoeopathy, he did not suggest a substitute, declare his preferences,
or even give his reasons, but firmly and peremptorily declined his
present treatment. And, to everybody's astonishment, he did not seem a
bit the worse for it.

Still he was not strong, and his continual aversion to childish sports
and youthful exercise provoked the easy criticism of that large part
of humanity who are ready to confound cause and effect, and such brief
moments as the Sluysdaels could spare him from their fashionable duties
were made miserable to them by gratuitous suggestions and plans for
their child's improvement. It was noticeable, however, that few of them
were ever offered to Johnnyboy personally. He had a singularly direct
way of dealing with them, and a precision of statement that was
embarrassing.

One afternoon, Jack Bracy drove up to the veranda of the Crustacean
with a smart buggy and spirited thoroughbred for Miss Circe's especial
driving, and his own saddle-horse on which he was to accompany her.
Jack had dismounted, a groom held his saddle-horse until the young lady
should appear, and he himself stood at the head of the thoroughbred. As
Johnnyboy, leaning against the railing, was regarding the turnout
with ill-concealed disdain, Jack, in the pride of his triumph over his
rivals, good-humoredly offered to put him in the buggy, and allow him to
take the reins. Johnnyboy did not reply.