'Oh,' said the doctor, 'I am sure you ought to tell me.'
'If you have not had a guess that way yourself, doctor, I would rather not.'
The doctor looked up at the ceiling, crossed and uncrossed his legs, leant his head upon his hand, rubbed his forehead, and went through all the various manoeuvres which imply deep thought, finishing the process by guessing one of the Miss Punters.
'I am a bad hand at guessing,' he said, finding that Miss Punter was not well received. 'At one time I thought it not unlikely that poor little Marjory would be his choice, but I think now he never felt anything for her but deep pity; and as to her, poor girl, her heart is buried with her father, whom I fear she will shortly follow.'
'I thought people never died of grief, doctor.'
'Grief is a strong consumer, madam; but Marjory inherits from her mother that terrible disease that laid her in an untimely grave.'
The squire, re-entering, turned the conversation. 'Eu tells me that he must return to-night, and that you go with him, and he wants me to go too; he says he has capital quarters there, so I think of sending one of the fellows on with some dogs—eh, Mary? only for a day or so, you know.'
Flora came into the room just in time to hear the announcement, and protested loudly against it, denouncing her cousin Eu in no very measured terms for his unreasonable proposal.
'You little vixen!' said the squire; 'isn't it enough for your mother to sit there harrowing my heart with her looks, but I must stand your tongue too? How would it be if we all went?'
'Oh, lovely!' said Flora; 'how I should like it!'