"You ought to see him walk into a steak," said James.
"If," pursued Aunt Isobel, "he really does receive a proper quantity of food, then I'm inclined to fear that it is food of poor quality. If, indeed, both the quality and quantity of his food should prove to be adequate, I can only suppose that he is suffering from insufficient sleep. Or is it brain fag? It might, of course, be liver or weak heart. Or some secret trouble, perhaps. Anti-Nervo is strongly recommended for all these complaints. He must certainly be made to take some Anti-Nervo."
"He must certainly be made to do something violent," admitted James. "He's certainly got hold of a most phenomenal hump."
Aunt Isobel was again forced to push off imaginary assailants. "Where did you learn, my dear," she inquired, in a poignant sort of tone, "to use such fearfully emancipated expressions? Another remedy in which I have the greatest possible faith is Sal-Toxine. Do you know Sal-Toxine? But, of course, you don't; it is quite a novel remedy. I myself have only—why, here is your dear father."
And here, indeed, that gentleman was; wearing the gloomiest possible air, and a very dirty collar. He blundered heavily through the door, and cast himself heavily upon a chair. Having disembarrassed himself of a hat and a stethoscope, he delivered an original and entertaining monologue.
"May my bones burn in hell," he said, "if I conduct this profitable enterprise for another damned minute. I've got the largest and dirtiest and sickest collection of common drunks in London. I've got all the Phthisics from here to Limehouse. Every pre-ordained son of a witch of a bricklayer within hail of the parish has broken his bandy leg, and called me in to set it. Every single woman that ever worked in a jam factory is 'expecting' to-morrow, and there isn't a pint of milk or a handful of coal between six of 'em. I haven't slept a wink since yesterday morning, or sat down since last night. I haven't had a wash since Monday, or a drink since last April. I'm fed up."
This speech was listened to by James with polite attention, but perfect calm. Aunt Isobel, upon the other hand, was unable to suppress a loudish shudder.
"Hullo!" cried Dr. Brink, with evident surprise. "Here's Isobel. How are you, Isobel? Hear you've changed parsons again. What a rabid young flirt you are."
"We have been discussing the subject of your deplorable poverty of health," responded the flirt. "We have decided that you must be made to take a tonic—Anti-Nervo, say, or Sal-Toxine. We have the very greatest faith in them, especially Anti-Nervo. You take two tablets, three times daily: one before and one after each meal."
"Can't I have one in my bath, as well?" asked Doctor Brink.