"Oh, dear! with all those poor little children."
"She would be much more likely to get well without the poor little children."
"And what could we send her that would be of use?"
"Chicken broth, port wine, brandy, if she could keep it from her husband."
"Oh, yes! he is a very good man. He never drinks."
"Excellent. Good bye to you," and the doctor stepped out upon the terrace. Mrs. Fitzpatrick followed him.
"What do you think of her, Mr. Lindsay?" she asked.
"I hardly know yet. I am not quite satisfied with her pulse; but I must see her when she has recovered the fatigue of her journey."
"And have you no advice to give me in the meantime?"
"Care—care—care. You know my axiom," said the doctor as he mounted his horse. "A better one I warrant, than that of Demosthenes."