People in those days were more sympathetic and less contemptuous in their treatment of such unfortunates than most of us are now, so he said in a kindly, soothing manner—
“Poor thing! Well, well, we’ll soon set that right. Now don’t you distress yourself, my good woman. I’ll soon settle the newt for you!”
Thereupon he gave her a bottle of coloured water and some bread-pills, directing her to take them steadily for a few days and then return to show herself to him. He fully expected, he added, that she would then be quite restored to health.
Away went the sufferer.
At the time appointed she again visited the hospital.
“Well,” said my uncle cheerfully, “how are you? Newt’s quite done for, I suppose?”
“Oh no, sir,” she replied piteously. “A terrible thing’s happened.”
“Indeed! Sorry for that. What is it?”
“The newt’s had young ones!”
My uncle gave that case up. I have no doubt he thenceforth regarded “hysteria” as incurable in confirmed cases.