"'There's nothing here, Father,' I said, rather testily. 'Haven't I been here hours on end with the parson's wife? Wouldn't I have known it?'
"He never opened his eyes.
"'Probably not, doctor,' he said pleasantly. 'It's not your job, you see. You were thinking about her liver.'
"'And you?' said I.
"'Her life everlasting,' said he.
"And his eyes shut, all the time!
"So I shut my mouth and watched him. And suddenly his lips began to work, and he was mumbling to himself, and I saw that his hands were grasping the arms of the wooden chair tight, so tight that as he prayed, he actually worked himself over the floor, as a child will, you know. After he'd moved several feet that way, between me and the fireplace—I was counting the inches, to keep myself quiet—he stopped suddenly, opened his eyes and loosened his hands.
"'I've got it now, thanks be!' he said, looking straight at me. 'It's this room, sure enough, doctor!'
"'What do you mean, for heaven's sake?' I said, getting up and coming to him, interested enough, now, you can believe.
"'For hell's sake, would be nearer the mark,' he answered me, gently enough, but his jaw was set and there was a light in his eye I'd seen there once or twice. 'This is a bad business. This'll take more than sitting down, this will.'