The Doctor, after a courteous salutation, put on his spectacles, and examined him carefully.

Frank looked at him all the time with a quiet smile, and in the end the Doctor said-- "Allow me the privilege of shaking hands with you, sir." "Shall I be considered rude if I say that I seldom or never saw a finer head than yours on a man's shoulders?
And, judging by the face, it is well lined." "Like a buck-basket," said Frank, "full of dirty linen.

Plenty of it, and of some quality, but not in a state fit for use yet.

I will have it washed up, and wear such of it as is worth soon." The Doctor saw he had found a man after his own heart, and it was not long before Frank and he were in the seventh heaven of discussion.
Meanwhile, the Major had drawn up alongside of Tom, and said-- "Any news of the poor little dove that has left the nest, old friend ?" "Yes," said Tom, eagerly; "we have got a letter.

Good news, too." "Thank God for that," said the Major.