“You will do nothing of the sort, sir,” corrected his mother, taking the key from him: she had been thoroughly put out by the suggestion of the “commission.”
“Should you chance to see the captain when you go out,” she added to me, “tell him his watch-key is here.”
The phaeton waited outside. It was the oldest thing I ever saw in regard to fashion, and might have been in the firm hundreds of years. Its hood could be screwed up and down at will; just as the perch behind, where Thomas, the groom, generally sat, could be closed or opened. I asked Dr. Knox whether it had been built later than the year One.
“Just a little, I suppose,” he answered, smiling. “This vehicle was Dockett’s special aversion. He christened it the ‘conveyance,’ and we have mostly called it so since.”
We were about to step into it, when Madame St. Vincent came tripping out of the gate up above. Dr. Knox met her.
“I was sorry not to have been in the way when you left, doctor,” she said to him in a tone of apology: “I had gone to get the jelly for Lady Jenkins. Do tell me what you think of her?”
“She does not appear very lively,” he answered; “but I can’t find out that she is in any pain.”
“I wish she would get better!—she does give me so much concern,” warmly spoke madame. “Not that I think her seriously ill, myself. I’m sure I do everything for her that I possibly can.”
“Yes, yes, my dear lady, you cannot do more than you do,” replied Arnold. “I will be up in better time to-morrow.”
“Is Captain Collinson here?” I stayed behind Dr. Knox to ask.