“Splendidly. Horribly. No end of adventures. Tell you all about it when I come again. Must see patients now. Must wind up old Moredock, and set him going again, or no bells, no clock, and no ‘Amens’ on Sunday.”
“Well, we could do without the last,” said the curate, smiling. “Going to see Mrs Berens?”
The doctor made a comical grimace.
“Must,” he said; “but, ’pon my word, I always feel ashamed to charge for my visits. She’s as well as you are, Miss Salis.”
“But she’s always better when you’ve been to feel her pulse,” said the curate, laughing.
“Get out!” cried the doctor merrily.
“I say, North, don’t be shabby.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t slip off, and be married in London. Have it here, and let me get my fees.”
“Now, beware,” said the doctor, shaking his fist playfully. “I never have slain a man wilfully; but if you tempt me there’s no knowing what I may do when I have you stretched helpless in bed.”