“We do not know—we are afraid to hope—pray, pray go.”
“She hasn’t spoken so gently since that night,” muttered Crampton, as he hurried down the street. “Poor girl! it is very hard; and this may be only the change before—No, I won’t think that,” cried the old clerk, and he broke into a run.
Chapter Thirty Six.
Crampton Reports Progress.
“Yes,” said Dr Knatchbull, confidently; “he will get over it now. Can’t say,” he said, rubbing his hands in his satisfaction, “whether it’s the doctor’s physic or the patient’s physique, but one of them has worked wonders. What do you say, Miss Van Heldre?”
“That we can never be sufficiently grateful to you.”
“Never,” cried Mrs Van Heldre, wringing his hand. “Bah!” exclaimed the doctor, “that’s what you people say now that you have got to the turn; but by-and-by when I send in my bill—and I mean to make this a pretty stiff one, Mrs Van Heldre—you will all be as grumpy as possible, and think it a terrible overcharge.”
“Well, really, Dr Knatchbull,” began Mrs Van Heldre, ruffling up like an aggravated hen, “I am quite sure my dear husband will pay any—”