to be your patient. Though, perhaps, I 'm not quite as wise as a judge, yet I 'm thankful to say that I 've my wits about me, and have not got a tile off; or, as they say down in my part of the country—I 've got all my buttons on, and they 're all shanked."
Mr. Bouncer's laughter was infectious. Mr. Smalls and his son joined in it; the cabman grinned; the broad-shouldered Brand chuckled; and even the solemn bird-like face of Dr. Dustacre was transiently lit up by a wan smile. He murmured profuse thanks, and then conferred with the Squire. His going on to Barham to meet the train by which he had desired to return, was now out of the question. He must go back to the Woodlands and there see the real Simon Pure; and, if it should be found needful, take him to Barham by a later train. This plan was, therefore, adopted. The broad-shouldered Brand mounted the driving-seat of the chaise, into which the Squire and Dr. Dustacre entered, in order to talk over young Winstanley's case; while little Mr. Bouncer and his friend Mr. Smalls drove back in the mail-phaeton, Mr. Bouncer giving his friend a graphic description of the scene that had occurred, and the impressions he had received during his interview and walk and drive with "the old bald-pate." "I think," added Mr. Bouncer, "that he began to be afraid I should pull him up for assault and battery. If so, the old cove has had a greater fright from me than I had from him. So, it 's about square between us."
Luncheon followed their arrival at the Woodlands, and the Squire contrived that his nephew, Tom Winstanley, should not escape from an interview with the Doctor. The result of that interview was, that it was deemed expedient to place the Squire's nephew, for a
