“I hope, sir, you don’t think it necessary,” said her tender-hearted aunt: “if it could be any way avoided——”
“By all means, madam, as you say. We must do nothing without consideration.”
“I have considered, my dear aunt,” said Miss Clarendon. “I have not slept these three nights.
“But you do not consider that you caught cold getting up one night for me; and it may be only an accidental cold, my dear Esther. I should be so sorry if you were to lose a tooth. Don’t be in a hurry; once gone, you cannot get it back again.”
“Never was a truer, wiser word spoken, madam,” said St. Leger, swiftly whisking himself round, and as if looking for some essential implement. “May be a mere twinge, accidental cold, rheumatism; or may be——My dear madam” (to the aunt), “I will trouble you; let me pass. I beg pardon—one word with you,” and with his back to the patient in the chair, while he rummaged among ivory-handled instruments on the table, he went on in a low voice to the aunt—“Is she nervous? is she nervous, eh, eh, eh?”
Mrs. Pennant looked, but did not hear, for she was a little deaf.
“Yes, yes, yes; I see how it is. A word to the wise,” replied he, with a nod of intelligence. “Every lady’s nervous now-a-days, more or less. Where the deuce did I put this thing? Yes, yes—nerves;—all the same to me; know how to manage. Make it a principle—professional, to begin always by talking away nerves. You shall see, you shall see, my dearest madam; you shall soon see—you shall hear, you shall hear how I’ll talk this young lady—your niece—out of her nerves fairly. Beg pardon, Miss——, one instant. I am searching for—where have I put it?”
“I beg your pardon, sir: I am a little deaf,” said Mrs. Pennant.
“Deaf—hey? Ha! a little deaf. So everybody is now-a-days; even the most illustrious personages, more or less. Death and deafness common to all—mors omnibus. I have it. Now, my dear young lady, let us have another look and touch at these beautiful teeth. Your head will do very—vastly well, my dear ma’am—Miss——um, um, um!” hoping the name would be supplied. But that Miss Clarendon did not tell.
So raising his voice to the aunt as he went on looking, or seeming to look, at the niece’s tooth, he continued rapidly—“From Wales you are, ma’am? a beautiful country Wales, ma’am. Very near being born there myself, like, ha, ha, ha! that Prince of Wales—first Prince—Caernarvon Castle—you know the historical anecdote. Never saw finer teeth, upon my reputation. Are you ladies, may I ask, for I’ve friends in both divisions—are you North or South Wales, eh, eh?”