"'Fiddlesticks!' says she; 'I'll talk to Miss Perkins. You kin 'ave a pint a day for a fortnight.'
"'On'y,' I says, 'I don't want no milk.'
"'My good woman,' says she, 'you don't know what you want. Nor it ain't your place to know. Your place is to take what's given you an' be respectful. Next time you see your Doctor Brink, you kin tell 'im I told you so.'"
* * * * *
"So that," pursued the visitor, "is what I mean, Doctor, when I say be damned to 'er blarsted milk. Do you follow my meaning?"
"Perfectly," said the doctor again, as he grasped the rebel's hand. "Perfectly, Mrs. Donovan."
"Mrs. Wilson, if you please, Doctor," corrected the lady.
The doctor offered many apologies. "I believe," he said reflectively, "that you are Mrs. Bannister to her?"
"That's right," assented his patient.
"Ah!" murmured Doctor Brink, "I will write to her and acknowledge her kind message. Be gad I will. Yes. Ah! I—I—begad, yes. Ha! H'm! ... And now, Mrs. Ban——Mrs. Wilson, what is this about the certificate for the insurance company?"