‘Nervous,’ said Bob Sawyer complacently. ‘Camphor-julep and water three times a day, and composing draught at night.’
‘I don’t know how to begin, Mr. Sawyer,’ said the old lady. ‘It is so very painful and distressing.’
‘You need not begin, ma’am,’ rejoined Mr. Bob Sawyer. ‘I can anticipate all you would say. The head is in fault.’
‘I should be very sorry to think it was the heart,’ said the old lady, with a slight groan.
‘Not the slightest danger of that, ma’am,’ replied Bob Sawyer. ‘The stomach is the primary cause.’
‘Mr. Sawyer!’ exclaimed the old lady, starting.
‘Not the least doubt of it, ma’am,’ rejoined Bob, looking wondrous wise. ‘Medicine, in time, my dear ma’am, would have prevented it all.’
‘Mr. Sawyer,’ said the old lady, more flurried than before, ‘this conduct is either great impertinence to one in my situation, Sir, or it arises from your not understanding the object of my visit. If it had been in the power of medicine, or any foresight I could have used, to prevent what has occurred, I should certainly have done so. I had better see my nephew at once,’ said the old lady, twirling her reticule indignantly, and rising as she spoke.
‘Stop a moment, ma’am,’ said Bob Sawyer; ‘I’m afraid I have not understood you. What is the matter, ma’am?’
‘My niece, Mr. Sawyer,’ said the old lady: ‘your friend’s sister.’