“But you will, my dear; and I tell you at once that Neil Harley here will help you all he can.”
Five minutes later the doctor and his wife were alone, the former being called to account for his very warm advocacy of Mr Harley.
“Well, my dear, he deserves it all,” said the doctor.
“But I don’t quite like his behaviour towards Helen Perowne,” said the little lady; “and now we are upon the subject, Harry, I must say that I don’t quite like your conduct towards that girl.”
The doctor turned, took her hands, held them, and laughed.
“Why, what a droll little body you are, Mary!”
“And why, sir, pray?” said the lady, rather sharply.
“Four or five months ago, my dear, I don’t believe you knew the real meaning of the word love, and now I honestly believe you are finding out the meaning of the word jealousy as well; but seriously, my dear, that girl makes me shiver!”
“Shiver, sir! Why?”
“She’s a regular firebrand coming amongst our young men. She’ll do no end of mischief. I see it as plain as can be, and I shall have to set to as soon as I get home to compound a fresh medicine—pills at night, draught in the morning—for the cure of love-sickness. She’ll give the lot the complaint. But, you dear, silly little old woman, you don’t think that I—oh!—oh! come, Mary, Mary, my dear!”