must say his cousin is a damned queer fish, besides being as poor as he's
cranky, and there are the two ministers, only one's away and the other's
as dry as my own throat's getting. What do you say to a drink, doctor?"

He grinned at Dr. Rendall with a malicious significance I could make
nothing of. I could see that it perturbed the doctor, who answered in
evident embarrassment,

"If Mr. Merton would care for a glass of lemonade"

A hoot of laughter interrupted him. It reminded me of Jock, except that
Mr. O'Brien's laugh had such a flavour of ill-nature. The man might or
might not be what I suspected, but he was indubitably objectionable.

"No, thank you," I answered him. "I set out to call on Mr. Rendall and
the time is passing."

"Damned pleasantly in our society, eh?" put in O'Brien with the same
sardonic laugh.

They both saw me to the door, and we said good-bye, without enthusiasm on
the doctor's part, with a grin on Mr. O'Brien's, and with very mixed
emotions on my own.



VI

A PETTICOAT