"You seemed to think that some one was playing the 'cello; or rather, you fancied there was a 'cello in the room, and it seemed to be endowed with life. You said, 'I didn't know that 'cellos had hands!' and then you asked if it spoke Spanish. I couldn't help laughing a little at that, and you were quite short with me, and told me I that didn't know phlox from flaxseed. It was very curious!"
"Must have been!" said Geoffrey, dryly. "I'm only thankful—was that the worst thing I said?"
"Wasn't that bad enough? yes, that was the very worst. I am going out now, Doctor Strong. Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Going out!" repeated Geoffrey, in dismay.
"Yes. I have some errands to do. What is it?" for the cloud on his brow was unmistakable.
"Oh—nothing! I thought you were going to see to this crack in my skull, but it's no matter."
"It is hardly two hours since I dressed it," said Vesta. "I thought you said it felt very comfortable."
"Well—it did; but it hurts now, considerably. No matter, though, if you are busy I dare say I could get Pottle to come in sometime in the course of the day."
He had the grace to be ashamed of himself, when Vesta brought basin and sponge, and began quietly and patiently to dress the injured temple.
"I know I am fractious," he said, plaintively. "I can't seem to help it."