Dr. Stanforth would take off his glasses, carefully wipe them with his handkerchief, and readjust them.
“Permit me to see your tongue again, madam. Um—ah—h—h.” Then, after looking at the organ closely for some moments, he would ask, incredulously—
“You never take spirits, madam?”
“I said very seldom, doctor—never more than a teaspoonful of brandy in a little water the last thing at night. You know you told I might do that last time I was here.”
“One teaspoonful, madam?” with another scrutiny of the tongue; “only one teaspoonful of brandy?”
“That is all, sir,” said the patient, bridling up and getting restive.
Dr. Stanforth took off his glasses, folded them, and leaning back in his chair, asked in his blandest tones, “Pray, where do you procure your brandy? It must be very strong. I can get none so good!”
The woman would bear no more roasting that day, and having taken her prescription, left the room, the assembled students heartily enjoying her discomfiture.
The way to annoy him and put him on his mettle was for a lady patient to object to an examination in the presence of his very large class of students.
“Can’t I see you privately, doctor?”