“That’s very true, sir. In the midst of life we are in——”
“Lumbago,” interposed Mr Bunker.
Mrs Gabbon looked a trifle startled.
“Well,” he continued with the same gravity, “I may unfortunately have occasion to consult a doctor——”
“There’s Dr Smith,” interrupted Mrs Gabbon, her equanimity quite restored by his ecclesiastical tone and the mention of ailments; “’e attended my poor dear ’usband hall through his last illness; an huncommon clever doctor, sir, as I ought to know, sir, bein’——”
“No doubt an excellent man, Mrs Gabbon; but I should like to know of one as near at hand as possible. Now I see the name of a Dr Twiddel——”
“I wouldn’t recommend ’im, sir,” said Mrs Gabbon, pursing her mouth.
[“]Indeed? Why not?”
“’E attended Mrs Brown’s servant-girl, sir,—she bein’ the lady as has the ’ouse next door,—and what he give ’er didn’t do no good. Mrs Brown tell me ’erself.”
“Still, in an emergency——”