VISITOR: You've reported, 'ave ye? Oh, very well, then. We'll see. That boy ain't gotter be shifted. See?
DOCTOR: All right. Get out.
VISITOR: We've called in Dr. Popham, and 'e's weighed you up. See? The boy ain't got diftheria at all. Nor 'e ain't gotter be shifted.
DOCTOR (in simpler terms): May Heaven administer to your requirements. Get out.
III.—EVENING
VISITOR: If you please, Doctor, I come round ere about the boy Cooper. I'm the father, sir. We want you to come round and see 'im. 'E's very bad, sir.
DOCTOR: Made rather fools of yourselves, haven't you?
VISITOR: We ain't give 'im none o' Dr. Popham's medsun, sir; not a drop. We want you to come round, Doctor. 'E's very bad.
DOCTOR: All right. I'll be round in half an hour.
VISITOR: Can't you come round at once, sir? 'E's very bad. 'E don't seem able to swaller, sir, and there's lumps in 'is neck. And the man from the 'ealth orfice ain't ser much as bin near us.