"My dear sir, I am very ill," said she, after a pause, "will you feel my pulse?"
I touched a wrist, and looked at a hand that was worthy of being admired. What a pity, thought I, that she should be old, ugly, and half crazy!
"Do you not think that this pulse of mine exhibits considerable nervous excitement? I reckoned it this morning, it was at a hundred and twenty."
"It certainly beats quick," replied I, "but perhaps the camphor julep may prove beneficial."
"I thank you for your advice, Mr Newland," said she, laying down a guinea, "and if I am not better, I will call again, or send for you. Good-night."
She walked out of the shop, leaving me in no small astonishment. What could she mean? I was lost in reverie, when Timothy returned. The guinea remained on the counter.
"I met her going home," said he. "Bless me—a guinea—why, Japhet!" I recounted all that had passed. "Well, then, it has turned out well for us instead of ill, as I expected."
The us reminded me that we shared profits on these occasions, and I offered Timothy his half; but Tim, with all his espièglerie was not selfish, and he stoutly refused to take his share. He dubbed me an M.D., and said I had beat Mr Cophagus already, for he had never taken a physician's fee.
"I cannot understand it, Timothy," said I, after a few minutes' thought.
"I can," replied Timothy. "She has looked in at the window until she has fallen in love with your handsome face; that's it, depend upon it." As I could find no other cause, and Tim's opinion was backed by my own vanity, I imagined that such must be the case. "Yes, 'tis so," continued Timothy, "as the saying is, there's money bid for you."