Aunt F. Oh, oh!
Dr. H. [Turns toward Aunt F.] Yes, stomach,—make an apothecary's shop of her stomach, and matters will be only the worse. Why, there isn't enough iron in her blood to make a needle. [Points to needle in Aunt F's hand]
Aunt F. [Simpers] Oh, oh!
Mamma P. Iron in her blood! I never heard the like!
Dr. H. Yes, iron, red particles, globules or whatever you please to call them. Her blood is all water and lymph, and that is the reason that her cheeks and lips look so like a cambric handkerchief, why she pants and puffs if she goes up-stairs. [Motions to E. to come forward, puts head to examine heart] Her heart is all right if there were only blood to work it in, but it sucks and wheezes like a dry pump for want of vital fluid. [Emphatically] She must have more blood, madam, and Nature must make it for her.
Grandma P. We were thinking of going to Newport, Doctor.
Dr. H. [Derisively] Yes, to Newport! To a ball every night and a flurry of dressing and flirtation every morning! No such thing! Send her to an unfashionable old farmhouse where there was never a more exciting party than a quilting frolic heard of. Let her learn the difference between huckleberries and blackberries, learn where checkerberries grow thickest and dig up sweet flag root with her own hands as country children do. It would do her good to plant a few hills of potatoes—
Aunt F. Our Emily! Potatoes! Oh, dreadful, dreadful!
Dr. H. Yes, potatoes. Plant a few hills of potatoes and hoe them herself as I once heard of a royal princess doing, because [With emphasis] queens can afford to be sensible in the bringing up of their daughters!
Mamma P. What you say is all very new, Dr. Hardhack. Indeed, we had never thought of such a thing as sending Emily into the real country. But I will talk it over with Mr. Proudie, and see what he thinks of it.