“And win’t ye tall me wha it was ’at beat ye?”
Tears stood in his eyes, but still he was silent.
“So you win’t speak till me! And after the nice breakfast I geed ye, too!”
The tears now flowed, but still he was silent.
“And wha was it then, that droonded ye in the water?”
He looked all round, but did not speak; and Mrs. Smyth soon saw it was vain to persist in questioning him.
Mr. Dixon, the Keswick surgeon, arrived. He inquired of Mrs. Smyth what the child had eaten, and how his food had seemed to agree with him. Having received due replies, he turned to Frances, who by this time was just entering, and addressed her thus:—
“I should not have anticipated, madam—I should not have anticipated, that so great a variety of aliment would have assimilated well in the child’s stomach; but, such being the case, I never set my face against facts, madam!—never set my face against facts! I should, therefore, continue the course which has been hitherto pursued, with respect to nutriment.”
“Yes, sir; but have you seen his bruises?” asked Frances.
“My practice is very simple, madam,” resumed the doctor, without answering her question; “I love to go hand-in-hand with our great instructress, Nature.”