Poor Tobias still remains upon his bed of sickness. The number of hours at the expiration of which the medical man had expected him to recover were nearly gone. In Colonel Jeffery's parlour three persons, besides himself, were assembled. These three were his friend the captain, Sir Richard Blunt, and Mrs. Ragg. The lady was sitting with a not over clean handkerchief at her eyes, and keeping up a perpetual motion with her knee, as though she were nursing some fractious baby, and Mrs. Ragg had been used of late to go out as a monthly nurse occasionally, which, perhaps, accounted for this little peculiarity.
"Now, madam," said the colonel, "you quite understand, I hope, that you are not to mention to any living soul the fact of your son Tobias being with me."
"Oh, dear me, no, sir. Who should I mention it to?"
"That we can't tell," interrupted the captain, "you are simply desired not to tell it."
"I'm sure I don't see anybody once in a week, sir."
"Good God! woman," cried the colonel, "does that mean that when you do see any one you will tell it?"
"Lord love you, sir, it's few people as comes to see you when you are down in the world. I'm sure it's seldom enough a soul taps at my door with a 'Mrs. Ragg, how are you?'"
"Now was there ever such an incorrigible woman as this?"
"If you were to talk to her for a month," said Sir Robert Blunt, "you would not get a direct answer from her. Allow me to try something else—Mrs. Ragg."
"Yes, sir—humbly at your service, sir."