“Yes, Sir James, I think you had better,” said the doctor, smiling; and he glanced at Mark.
“Well, go on, then,” cried Sir James.
“Oh, I say, father, don’t,” cried Mark sharply.
“Don’t what, sir?” pretty well roared his father.
“I don’t mind a nip or two, but you did give it to me then. It was like a vice.”
“Pooh, boy, pooh! You are not a baby, are you?”
“No, father, but—” began Mark, wriggling his shoulder.
“Hold your tongue, sir, and don’t interrupt the doctor. Now, doctor, what were you going to say?”
“I was going to say, Sir James, that I fully believe that a fit of the gout must be very painful—”
“Oh, you think so, do you?”