“Yes, if you don’t take care of it,” said Aunt Sophia sharply. “Unkindness is like a blight to a flower, and so is the misery of this world.”
“So,” said Scarlett, “the best thing is never to be unkind, auntie, and have nothing to do with misery—”
“If you can help it,” said the doctor.
”—Or the doctors,” said Scarlett, laughing—“always excepting Doctor Scales.”
About this time, Aunt Sophia, who had been very stiff and distant, began to soften a little towards the doctor, and listened attentively, as the host seemed to be trying to draw him out.
“What are you doing now, Jack?” he said, after a glance round the table to see that all was going satisfactorily and well; while Lady Scarlett sat, flushed and timid, troubled with the cares of the house, and wondering whether her husband was satisfied with the preparations that had been made.
“Eating,” said the doctor drily, “and to such an extent, that I am blushing inwardly for having such a dreadful appetite.”
“I suppose,” said Prayle, “that a good appetite is a sign of good health?”
“Sometimes,” said the doctor. “There are morbid forms of desire for food.—What say?”
“I repeated my question,” said Scarlett, laughing. “What are you doing now?”