"You know yesself 'ow ill I been, Doctor. Well, then, she come round to my place every day, she did, with 'er little notebook and 'er gold-rimmed eye glasses, and what not, and she says to me, she says:—
"'I didn't ought to be visiting you at all, not be rights,' she says; 'but you was a good girl once,' she says, 'one of my very favourite girls once,' she says, 'though you 'ave made mock of your solemn pledge,' she says, 'and I thought I must come round,' she says, 'for old times' sake, and ask you what you mean be wastin' money on doctors,' she says.
"'It's me own money,' I says.
"'Never mind 'oose money it is," says she, 'you ain't got enough of it to go an' waste on doctors when the Church 'as got a beautiful sick club and a free dispensary all kindly arranged for you. Sich extravagance!' says she. 'And now, I suppose, you'll expect us to give you some milk tickets.'
"Did ever you 'ear the like of it, Doctor?
"'I ain't never arst you for no milk tickets,' I says; 'I ain't never arst you for nothing. Me 'usband is in work, and I kin buy me own milk, and I kin buy me own doctorin'.'
"'It's a disgrace,' she says. 'If the vicar was to 'ear of it 'e would be furious,' she says.
"'Then I shouldn't tell 'im, miss,' says I.
"'Why?' she says.
"'Because,' I says, 'it isn't a sister's place to put 'er brother into tempers.'