Dr. Brink accordingly hopped it. But that his treatment had not been wholly useless was testified by Mrs. Binney, who, when calling in that evening for some more dark brown, announced, with a sigh of satisfaction, that "'is trembles" was as bad as ever. "It'll be another week 'fore ever 'e can put them trousers on," she cried triumphantly.
That was a week ago. This very day has witnessed Mr. Binney's return to public life—properly habited and full of dignity.
I have been watching him, as, with his finest and most benevolent air, he bestowed a can of wholesome, grass-fed nourishment upon one of the numerous Barnstein children, who live opposite.
His hands, I thought, showed signs of more than usual eagerness as he hooked a trembling finger round the handle of the can. There was an expression as of reverence upon his face, and he yielded the liquid into Miss Barnstein's keeping with a hesitancy, as of one loth to part from his treasure.
His lips moved, and I could almost have believed that he had breathed a blessing—a Latin blessing. Then I heard him speak—in deep, impressive tones he spake.
"Be careful with it, missy," he said. "If you spill some, what'll mother say? Now do be careful!"
With that he returned to his little hand-cart and pushed it slowly up the road, walking with a measured gait and uttering, in rich and reverent tones, his exhortation:—
"Milk! Milk! Milk!"
XXI
TWO PATIENTS