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 214 or not, it is equally unimportant to you and to me. I tell you that I was unconscious of the existence of these people until now; I tell you that, so far as I believe and know, the woman is a stranger to me. I have never known her in any way whatever; and I swear that I speak the truth, by the ties that exist between you and me!”

He held out his hand, and after a moments struggle with herself—not caused so much by the present point at issue, for she was now pretty well convinced that the likeness and the name must be accidental, as by the remembrance of certain former grievances, which Mr. Carlton had not been able so triumphantly to clear up—she gave him hers. Mr. Carlton stooped and kissed her, and she turned her face to him and burst into tears.

“If I am suspicious, you have made me so, Lewis, You should never have tried me.”

“The trials have been chiefly of your own making,” he whispered, “but we will not revert to the past. But now—am I to go on attending this child, or am I not, Laura? It shall be as you please; it is nothing to me one way or the other. If you wish me not, I’ll hand the case over to Grey.”

“Nonsense,” responded Lady Laura.

Which Mr. Carlton of course took to be en intimation that he was to go on with it. And accordingly on the afternoon of the following day, he again went up to Tupper’s cottage. Mrs. Smith had the boy on her lap at the table, the soldiers before him in battle array. “I have forgotten half my errand,” the surgeon exclaimed, as he threw himself in a chair, after speaking with her and the boy. “I intended to bring up a box of ointment and I have left it behind me.

“Is it of consequence, sir?”

“Yes, it is. I wanted to put some on his knee myself. I’m dead tired, for I have been on foot all day, running about. Would it be too much to ask you to step down to my house for it? It is not far. I’ll look at his leg the while.”

Mrs. Smith paused, hesitated, and then said she would go. Mr. Carlton told her what to ask for: a small box done up in white paper standing near the scales in the surgery. As she departed, he untied the linen round the child’s knee, gave a cursory glance at it, and tied it up again.

“What’s your name, my boy?”

“Lewis,” said the child.

“I thought your mother told me yesterday It was George?”

“So it is George. It’s Lewis George. Mother used to call me Lewis always, but she calls me George sometimes since we came here. Will you please let me go to my soldiers?”

“Presently. In your father dead?”

“He died before we come here; he died in Scotland. My black things are worn for him. Mr. Carlton, will that soldier drum always?”

“I think so,” said Mr. Carlton. “George, my little man, you want some fresh air, and I shall put you outside in your chair until your mother returns.”

Mr. Carlton did so. He not only put the boy in his chair, but he tied him in with a towel he espied; and carrying boy, chair, and soldiers, he placed them against the wall of the cottage outside.

“Why do you tie me in, sir?”

“That you may not get down to run about.”

“I won’t do that. Since my leg was bad, I don’t like running.”

Mr. Carlton made no reply. Ha went indoors, beyond reach of the view of the boy, and then he began a series of extraordinary manoeuvres. Up-stairs and down, up-stairs first, he went peeping about, now into this box, now into that; now into this drawer, now into that cupboard. One small box baffled him, for it was locked and double locked, and he thrust it back into its receptacle, inside another, for he had nothing to force it with, though he had tried his penknife. What was he hunting for?

Leaving everything in its place, so that no trace of the search might be found, he went down to the kitchen again, drew open a drawer, and turned over its contents. An old envelope he clutched eagerly; it contained a prescription, and nothing else, but that he did not know. He was about to dive into its folds, when he became conscious that he was not alone. Mrs. Smith stood in the doorway, watching him with all her eyes. What on earth had brought her back so quickly? was Mr. Carlton’s thought.

He dropped the envelope with a quick motion, recollected himself, and continued to look in the drawer, his manner cool and collected. “I am searching for some rag,” said be, turning to her.

“Rag?” repeated Mrs. Smith, who did not appear particularly pleased at his off-handed proceedings. “I don’t keep rag in those drawers. You might have waited, sir, I think, till I came home.”

“You were so long,” replied Mr. Carlton, “I have not the time to stop.”

“Then, sir, I don’t know what you’d call short,” returned Mrs. Smith. “I ran all the way there and back.”

Mr. Carlton took the ointment from her,