"Well, doctor," inquired Professor Cyanite, "and what of your patient?"
"Recovered now, of course, but dreadfully shaken," replied our medico. "The nervous system has sustained a terrible shock. Luckily, she has suffered no injuries from her fall."
"Poor young thing!" observed Mr. Crucible, compassionately. "Well, who can wonder at it?"
During these remarks, to which Mr. Oldstone paid no attention whatever, being absorbed in the reperusal of his newspaper, he was suddenly observed to flush as with pleasure. His brow cleared, his eye sparkled. Then, suddenly rising from his chair, he crumpled up his paper, thrust it again into his pocket, rubbed his hands with satisfaction, then with a relieved expression in his face he slowly left the room without a word.
"Wonder what's come over Oldstone!" muttered one of them. "He seems quite himself again."
No sooner was our antiquary outside the door than he beckoned the landlord aside, who was still looking grave, and asked him how he had left his daughter.
"Dreadful cut up like, sir, 'bout somethin' or other," replied that worthy, "but Dr. Bleedem says as how we ain't got no call to be afeared, and that when she has finished the cordial she'll come round agin as right as a trivet."
"Now look here, Jack," began our antiquary, rubbing his hands together cheerily, and with difficulty repressing his delight. "What'll you bet that in five minutes time I don't bring her round again, cordial or no cordial?"
"Do you think you could, sir?" asked our host, somewhat incredulously, yet becoming infected, in spite of himself, by Mr. Oldstone's assurance and good humour.
"I do, mine host, most certainly I do," replied the antiquary.