"You have come back like a barbarian," she said, "rougher than Tardif
himself. How have you managed, my boy? You must tell me all about it as
soon as your hunger is satisfied."

"As soon as I have had my breakfast, mother, I must put up a few things
in a hamper to go back by the Sark cutter," I answered.

"What sort of things?" she asked. "Tell me, and I will be getting them
ready for you."

"Well, there will be some physic, of course," I said; "you cannot help
me in that. But you can find things suitable for a delicate appetite;
jelly, you know, and jams, and marmalade; any thing nice that comes to
hand. And some good port-wine, and a few amusing books."

"Books!" echoed my mother.

I recollected at once that the books she might select, as being suited
to a Sark peasant, would hardly prove interesting to my patient. I could
not do better than go down to Barbet's circulating library, and look out
some good works there.

"Well, no," I said; "never mind the books. If you will look out the
other things, those can wait."

"Whom are they for?" asked my mother.

"For my patient," I replied, devoting myself to the breakfast before me.