"It depends on how you punctuate," he replied.
"Mr. Berwick," said Lydia, "Father pretends that he is not talkative, but don't you believe him. He can easily talk you to sleep."
The Doctor was almost gay, that is, for the Doctor. His eyes shone. He did not cease to look at me, except when he looked at Lydia. For the time, Lydia had a severer countenance than her father's. I ate. I thanked my stars for the conversation that was covering my ignoble performance.
"Doctor," I asked, pausing for breath, "is there any news of Willis?"
"Willis is doing well enough. The ball has been extracted; it was only a buck-shot, as you rightly surmised."
"How do you know what I surmised, Doctor?"
"Willis told the surgeon of your supposition, giving you full credit for the origin of it. By the way, that was a famous bandage you gave him."
"Was it the correct practice?"
"Well, I can hardly go as far as to say it was scientific, but under the circumstances we must pardon you."
"How long will the sergeant be down?"