Cob.
To fetch the doctor for Daan.
Clementine.
Is old Daan sick?
Cob.
Tja. Old age. Took to his bed suddenly. Can’t keep anything on his stomach. The beans and pork gravy he ate——
Clementine.
Beans and pork gravy for a sick old man?
Cob.
Tja. The matron broils him a chicken or a beefsteak—Eh? She’s even cross because she’s got to beat an egg for his breakfast. This afternoon he was delirious, talking of setting out the nets, and paying out the buoy line. I sez to the matron, “His time’s come.” “Look out or yours’ll come,” sez she. I sez, “The doctor should be sent for.” “Mind your own business,” sez she, “am I the Matron or are you?” Then I sez, “You’re the matron.” “Well then,” sez she. Just now, she sez, “You’d better go for the doctor.” As if it couldn’t a been done this afternoon. I go to the doctor and the doctor’s out of town. Now I’ve been to Simon to take me to town in his dog car.