“How can you say so, dear, when you know how all the poor people cried at your going away? They said no one would ever cure them of the fever again as you did. Why, they always called you the great doctor.”
“Yes, my dear: but people here would call me the great quack. There, I’m going for my walk round. But—hullo! here’s his lordship to see the burnt hoarding.”
For just at that moment Lord Pinemount’s loud, harsh voice floated in at the window.
“Disgraceful!” he cried.
Then there was a murmur of another voice, and again of another, as if two men were respectfully addressing his lordship.
“An old scoundrel!” came in at the window again.
“He means me!” cried the Doctor excitedly, rising.
“No, no, papa—please, please!” whispered Veronica, clinging to him.
“But I’m sure he does, Very.”
“I mean, don’t go out, papa dear: you would be so angry.”