(Enter Alice, R.)
Alice. (Running to Lucy and kissing her.) Why, Lucy Aiken! You dear, good-for-nothing thing! Where have you been all this while?
Lucy. It is an age since we met. I must congratulate you, and I assure you I do, with all my heart, on your altered position. So, the rich and crusty old uncle, who forgot his relations while living, has remembered you in his will?
Alice. Yes, Lucy; thanks to uncle Caleb, we are rich. And, I assure you, we were glad to be remembered.
Lucy. But, dear me, Alice, what a careless creature I am! How is your mother? Bridget tells me she is very sick.
Alice. Poor mother! this sudden turn in the wheel of fortune has been too much for her; she is a confirmed invalid. I don’t know what to make of her. Dr. Tincture can find no symptoms of disease. He says she is in sound bodily health; her suddenly dropping her usual employments has occasioned her seeming illness.
No Cure, No Pay.
Lucy. Seeming! Why, Alice, you treat lightly what your Bridget seems to consider a very serious illness.
Alice. Well, I do; for I am convinced nothing ails mother. Her head is turned with the idea that she is an invalid, because she thinks it fashionable for rich ladies to be ailing, and she has the queerest notions. I suppose you will laugh, but I am going to tell you her last freak. She is highly incensed at Dr. Tincture, refuses to see him, and declares her illness can only be cured by some mysterious agency. Yesterday she bade me prepare this note to be inserted in the evening papers. (Reads.) “No Cure, no Pay.—A lady who is suffering from a disease which baffles the skill of the medical profession, and who is desirous of testifying her appreciation of the efforts now being made to institute a school of female practitioners, offers the sum of five hundred dollars to any female who will cure her. Address, with real name, ‘Bedridden,’ Station A, Boston Post Office; and remember, No cure, no pay.” Did you ever hear of such a nonsensical whim?