“Yes,” said Mrs Rumsey, endorsing her husband’s words, “their appetites are dreadful; and the doctor has so little business.”
“Yes, there isn’t much, only a mining accident now and then, or a half-drowned man or two to attend,” said Rumsey.
“My pa brought a man to life again,” said Bobby, gazing round-eyed at the visitor.
“Did he though?” said Geoffrey.
“Bobby, hold your tongue.”
“Tom Jennen said he did,” whispered the boy; “and my pa’s very clever.”
“Yes,” sighed Mrs Rumsey, “he is clever.”
“Hero worship,” said the doctor to Geoffrey, with his eyes twinkling.
“That’s your great fault, dear,” said Mrs Rumsey, giving her nose a twitch in the other direction. “It was that which kept you so back in London. You know you are very clever.”
“I’m setting a good example to my neighbours in having my house well garrisoned,” said the doctor dryly. “I’m not at all ashamed to speak to my enemies in the gate—except when they come with their bills,” he added softly.