“Yes, thoroughly. There, sit back in your chair, and keep quiet. Mr Salis is coming in to see you by-and-by.”
“Nay, nay, nay! I don’t want he. It makes a man feel as if he’s very bad when parson comes to see him.”
“Why, I’m sure he’s a thoroughly good friend to you, old fellow.”
“Oh! yes, he’s right enough; but as soon as ever he comes in this here room, he’ll begin talking to me about what a sinner I’ve been.”
“Well, quite right, too.”
“Maybe, doctor, maybe,” said the old man, bursting into a loud cachinnation; “but he don’t know everything, doctor, do he? If he did, he’d lay it on thicker; and he wouldn’t be quite so friendly with you.”
“Come, come, Moredock,” said the doctor, laughing. “Suppose we leave professional secrets alone, eh?”
“Ay, ay, doctor, we will. I don’t forget what you’ve told me; but do go and tell parson I’m a deal better, and that he needn’t come.”
“Why? A visit won’t do you any harm.”
“Maybe not, doctor—p’r’aps not; but as soon as he comes he’ll want to read me a chapter and then pray over me; and I’m that soaked with it all, after these many years, that I haven’t room for no more.”