I took the seat with thanks, and she resumed her own.
“Rather hot weather for walking, sir!” said the precise-looking gentleman.
“It is,” said I; “but as I can’t observe the country well without walking through it I put up with the heat.”
“You exhibit a philosophic mind, sir,” said the precise-looking gentleman—“and a philosophic mind I hold in reverence.”
“Pray, sir,” said I, “have I the honour of addressing a member of the medical profession?”
“Sir,” said the precise-looking gentleman, getting up and making me a bow, “your question does honour to your powers of discrimination—a member of the medical profession I am, though an unworthy one.”
“Nay, nay, doctor,” said the landlady briskly; “say not so—every one knows that you are a credit to your profession—well would it be if there were many in it like you—unworthy? marry come up! I won’t hear such an expression.”
“I see,” said I, “that I have not only the honour of addressing a medical gentleman, but a doctor of medicine—however, I might have known as much by your language and deportment.”
With a yet lower bow than, before he replied, with something of a sigh, “No, sir, no, our kind landlady and the neighbourhood are in the habit of placing doctor before my name, but I have no title to it—I am not Doctor Jones, sir, but plain Geffery Jones at your service,” and thereupon with another bow he sat down.
“Do you reside here?” said I.