she answered.

"I almost wish I had come round in the afternoon," said the visitor,
standing with his thick legs astride upon the door-mat. "It seems a
pity to break his chain of thought. The morning is his time for study."

"Houts! I wouldna' fash aboot that."

"Well! well! The third floor, you say. He did not expect me so early,
I shall surprise the dear boy at his work."

The landlady stood listening expectantly in the passage. The sturdy
little man plodded heavily up the first flight of stairs. He paused on
the landing.

"Dear me!" he murmured. "Some one is beating carpets. How can they
expect poor Tom to read?"

At the second landing the noise was much louder. "It must be a dancing
school," conjectured the doctor.

When he reached his son's door, however, there could no longer be any
doubt as to whence the sounds proceeded. There was the stamp and
shuffle of feet, the hissing of in-drawn breath, and an occasional soft
thud, as if some one were butting his head against a bale of wool.
"It's epilepsy," gasped the doctor, and turning the handle he rushed
into the room.

One hurried glance showed him the struggle which was going on.
There was no time to note details. Some maniac was assaulting his Tom.