Why poor dear Lemon wouldn't stand anybody but me was, to say the least of it, inexplicable; as, since I used to catch indistinct views of his legs when he came courting Fanny in my father's house, I had never set eyes on him. I made no remark, however, but waited quietly for developments.
"He took to his bed, sir," said Mrs. Lemon, "at a quarter to four o'clock yesterday afternoon; and it's my opinion he'll never git up from it."
"That is bad news, Fanny. But your letter to me was written before yesterday afternoon."
"Yes, sir; because I felt that things mustn't be allowed to go on as they are going on without trying to alter 'em. They was bad enough when I posted my letter to you, sir; but they're a million times worse now. My blood's a-curdling, sir."
"Eh?" I cried, much startled by this solemn matter-of-fact description of the condition of her blood.
"It's curdling inside me, sir, to think of what is going to happen to Lemon!"
"Come, come, Fanny," I expostulated, "you mustn't take things so seriously; it will not mend them. What does the doctor say?"
"Doctor, sir? Love your heart! If I was to take a doctor into Lemon's room now, I wouldn't answer for the consequences."
"That is all nonsense," I said; "he must be reasoned with."
Mrs. Lemon shook her head triumphantly. "You may reason with some men, sir, and you may delood a child; but reason with Lemon--I defy you, sir!"