The next day the doctor said gravely, as though he felt hurt, "Don't you like me, Mary?"
Her face was dyed with blushes in an instant; but she replied softly, "Yes, I do."
"But did you say yesterday you didn't, and call me a dreadful name?"
"Yes, I did; but I like you now."
"What did you call me?"
"A maninger."
"And what is a maninger, pray?"
"Why, it's a—a real bad man; I'm sorry now, though."
"Well, I forgive you," he said patting her head, playfully. "Now, remember, we are good friends again."
"Did you say so, Mary?" or, "didn't you say this?" were questions often put to her by the patients, thinking she would deny something she had said. But no, she would not do it; often ending with the emphatic words, "I say it's real wicked to tell a lie!"