"Do? When for the last five years and more you've undone every attempt I've made? Look at that!" And Dr. Winthrop pointed to the mug. "If you will drink beer, as I am sick of telling you, why, you must abide by the consequences. Dash my wigs!" exclaimed the doctor, warming up. "If I'd a mug of solid gold that made a fool of me, I'd throw it in the ditch and bury it."
In this strain, the doctor talked at him for ten minutes or more; then he went away. And Hal, seeing that the coast was clear, went in. But Farmer Bluff was unusually glum that morning. Do what Hal would, he could not cheer him up; for the poor old sinner had got it on his mind that he was doomed to die.
"If I were you," said Hal to Maggie, as he went out at the gate, "I think I'd sing to Farmer Bluff. I can't, you know, or else I would; but I can manage talking best. He's right down in the dumps to-day. I can't think why—unless it is because he had to leave the farm."
A few days later told them, though. Gout doesn't attack the more important parts of the body without letting a man know it. Farmer Bluff was in such fearful pain that Dr. Winthrop was sent for in a hurry.
The doctor shook his head.
"He's had no beer since you were here last, sir," said Mrs. Rust. "He called for it no end of times; but I refused to bring it in."
"You did quite right," the doctor said. "When grown-up patients won't be sensible, they must be treated like children."
He little knew the language Farmer Bluff had hurled at her for carrying out these orders for his good.
Farmer Bluff was watching Dr. Winthrop's expression very anxiously.
"Is there any change—for the better, doctor?" asked he eagerly. "What can be the cause of all this pain?"