“I'll not race through a story in any such John Gilpin style,” said Mary, tartly. “Go, John!”
The doctor arose and went.
“No.”
“I think not.”
“Has she any fever?”
“All right, I'll be down in a little bit.”
Then he went back. “Now you can finish,” he said.
“Finis is written here,” said Mary. “Don't say story to me again!” So Mary's story remained unfinished.
But a few days later, when she was in the buggy with her husband she relented. “Now that the 'phone can't cut me short, John, I will finish about the odd incident just because you wanted to know. But it will fall pretty flat now, as all things do with too many preliminary flourishes.”
“Go on,” said the doctor.