"How is he?"
Dr. Keene made plain by his manner that any sensational account would receive his instantaneous contempt, and she answered within bounds.
"Well, now, tellin' the simple trufe, he ain' much hurt."
The doctor turned slowly and cautiously in bed.
"Have you seen Honoré Grandissime?"
"W'y--das funny you ass me dat. I jis now see 'im dis werry minnit."
"Where?"
"Jis gwine into de house wah dat laydy live w'at 'e runned over dat ah time."
"Now, you old hag," cried the sick man, his weak, husky voice trembling with passion, "you know you're telling me a lie."
"No, Mawse Chawlie," she protested with a coward's frown, "I swah I tellin' you de God's trufe!"