“Yes, come in,” said a sharp voice, very much with the expression of one wearied out by importunity. Miss Barrington gave a brief nod in return for the profound obeisance of her visitor, and then turned again to a large map which covered the table before her.
“I took the opportunity of my professional call here this morning—”
“How is that young man,—is anything broken?”
“I incline to say there is no fracture. The flexors, and perhaps, indeed, the annular ligament, are the seat of all the mischief.”
“A common sprain, in fact; a thing to rest for one day, and hold under the pump the day after.”
“The dear lady is always prompt, always energetic; but these sort of cases are often complicated, and require nice management.”
“And frequent visits,” said she, with a dry gravity.
“All the world must live, dear lady,—all the world must live.”
“Your profession does not always sustain your theory, sir; at least, popular scandal says you kill as many as you cure.” “I know the dear lady has little faith in physic.”
“Say none, sir, and you will be nearer the mark; but, remember, I seek no converts; I ask nobody to deny himself the luxuries of senna and gamboge because I prefer beef and mutton. You wanted to see my brother, I presume,” added she, sharply, “but he started early this morning for Kilkenny. The Solicitor-General wanted to say a few words to him on his way down to Cork.”