protests, and then fell on the top of him. Of course, he didn't do
it on purpose, but--'

The doctor mentioned Greatorex of Manchester, the celebrated brain
specialist. And Horace took Sidney to Manchester. They had to wait
an hour and a quarter to see Greatorex, his well-known consulting-
rooms in John Dalton Street being crowded with imperfect brains;
but their turn came at last, and they found themselves in
Greatorex's presence. Greatorex was a fat man, with the voice of a
thin man, who seemed to spend the whole of his career in the care
of his fingernails.

'Well, my little fellow,' said Greatorex, 'don't cry.' (For Sidney
was already crying.) And then to Horace, in a curt tone: 'What is
it?'

And Horace was obliged to humiliate himself and relate the
accident in detail, together with all that had subsequently
happened.

'Yes, yes, yes, yes!' Greatorex would punctuate the recital, and
when tired of 'yes' he would say 'Hum, hum, hum, hum!'

When he had said 'hum' seventy-two times he suddenly remarked that
his fee was three guineas, and told Horace to strengthen Sidney
all he could, not to work him too hard, and to bring him back in a
year's time.

Horace paid the money, Greatorex emitted a final 'hum', and then
the stepbrothers were whisked out by an expeditious footman. The