I became very glowing again, and, expressing myself in a rhapsodical style, I am afraid, urged my request strongly; reminding the Doctor that I had already a profession.

“Well, well,” said the Doctor, “that’s true. Certainly, your having a profession, and being actually engaged in studying it, makes a difference. But, my good young friend, what’s seventy pounds a year?”

“It doubles our income, Doctor Strong,” said I.

“Dear me!” replied the Doctor. “To think of that! Not that I mean to say it’s rigidly limited to seventy pounds a-year, because I have always contemplated making any young friend I might thus employ, a present too. Undoubtedly,” said the Doctor, still walking me up and down with his hand on my shoulder. “I have always taken an annual present into account.”

“My dear tutor,” said I (now, really, without any nonsense), “to whom I owe more obligations already than I ever can acknowledge⁠—”