“La, sir! why, even Dr. Dosewell said, rather grumpily though, ‘Never mind my bill; but don’t call me up at six o’clock in the morning again, without knowing a little more about people.’ And I never afore knew Dr. Dosewell go without his bill being paid. He said it was a trick o’ the other doctor to spite him.”
“What other doctor?”
“Oh, a very good gentleman, who got out with Mr. Digby when he was taken ill, and stayed till the next morning; and our doctor says his name is Morgan, and he lives in Lunnou, and is a homy—something.”
“Homicide,” suggested Leonard, ignorantly.
“Ah, homicide; something like that, only a deal longer and worse. But he left some of the tiniest little balls you ever see, sir, to give the child; but, bless you, they did her no good,—how should they?”
“Tiny balls, oh—homoeopathist—I understand. And the doctor was kind to her; perhaps he may help her. Have you written to him?”
“But we don’t know his address, and Lunnon is a vast place, sir.”
“I am going to London and will find it out.”
“Ah, sir, you seem very kind; and sin’ she must go to Lunnon (for what can we do with her here?—she’s too genteel for service), I wish she was going with you.”
“With me!” said Leonard, startled,—“with me! Well, why not?”