“Far better; and I’m sure you will find relief.”
“Well, you are right about the wind, for I felt it in my bones as soon as it got round; so, p’r’aps you’re right about the physic. I dunno, though, you’re only a boy, and not likely to know much. It’s a pity they send such young fellows as you to take charge of a parish. But the guardians don’t care a bit. They’d like to see all the old uns go under, the sooner the better. Not as I’m beholden to ’em for aught but a drop o’ physic. I can do without ’em, I daresay, for a good many years yet.”
“To be sure you can,” said Oldroyd, smiling rather gravely, as he looked at the ancient face before him.
“Ay, I can do without ’em; and now, look here, young man, you set me right again. I’ve got four shillings put aside, and I’ll give you that.”
“I daresay I can set you right again without the four shillings,” said Oldroyd, “but not if you begin by calling me a boy.”
“There’s naught to be ashamed of in being a boy,” cried the old woman sharply. “I wish I was a gal now, and could begin all over again.”
“No, there’s nothing to be ashamed of, old lady, but you must trust me, and take my medicine.”
“I won’t—I won’t swallow a drop, if you don’t take your oath it’s quite right, and will do me good, and won’t pyson me.”
For answer Oldroyd rose from his seat, and took a cup from a shelf, into which he poured a portion of the medicine.
“There, it’s no use, young man, I won’t take a dose.”