“Sure, some say it do be the cramps; but I think it do be trouble ave the bowels, Miss,” he answered.
“Poor man!” exclaimed Constance, and she looked at Smith reproachfully.
He quickly turned to her with a disgusted look on his face, and slowly exclaimed, “Yis mam!”
During the silence that followed Smith realized that he had spoken hastily and rude, and the disgust so palpably in evidence quickly merged into a look of grave concern.
His native wit, however, came to his aid in a singular apology.
“While the fellow hunted for a soft spot on the pavement, I called up a nearby doctor to help him,” he said.
“You shall be repaid,” Constance assured him in an absent manner.
“Plaise God, it will not be the ‘dago’ who’ll do it!” he solemnly replied, and then he softly asked.
“Be there any more arders, mam?”
“No, Smith, you must be in need of rest. Thank you for all your kindness,” and Constance turned from him with grief, unaffected, still on her face. “God bless yees!” he replied, and then as he turned to leave the room, said to himself, “I shud loike to see the wan—bad luck to him—who brought all this trouble on the poor missus,” and he shut his teeth tight in silent rage.