"'dainty bits
Make rich the ribs, but bankerout quite the wits.'"
"My dear," interposed Mr. Armstrong, "is not this conversation of too light a character?"
But he could not immediately check the doctor.
"Ha, Miss Faith," he cried, "'wilt thou show the whole wealth of thy wit, in an instant? I pray thee, understand a plain man in his plain meaning.' But
'The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen As is the razor's edge invisible, Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen.' Come," he added, observing that Mr. Armstrong looked grave, "take my arm, and we will discuss some serious subject, together." So saying, he offered his arm to Faith, which she took, and they followed, at a few steps distance, after Mr. Armstrong and the minister.
"I am afraid," said the doctor, slackening his pace, so as to allow the others to get out of hearing, "you would prefer a certain young gentleman's arm to that of an old bachelor. It is rather hard that the rogues, whose principal recommendation, I flatter myself, is that they are twenty years younger, should steal away all my sweethearts."
Faith laughed, as she replied:
"Why, dear doctor, what would you have us do? You never will propose; so you must not complain if you drive us poor girls to desperation."
"You wicked little baggage, is this the way you laugh at the most constant of your admirers? How many long years have I spent in your service, from the time I began with rocking your cradle, occasionally giving you, to sweeten your humors, a teaspoon of castor oil, or a half-dozen drops of elixir salutis, up to the present time, and thus you reward my devotion! I begin to feel desperate, and have half a mind to transfer my affections to Anne Bernard."
"Do not treat me so cruelly. I assure you, my love increases every day. Besides, you might find your perfidy punished by meeting a too formidable rival."