"As good as Billy Topsail's off shank?"
"I'll scrape that bad bone in there," said the Doctor, rubbing his hands in a flush of professional expectation; "and if it isn't as good as new when the job's finished I'll—I'll—why, I'll blush, my son: I'll blush all red and crimson and scarlet."
Teddy Brisk's mother was uneasy.
"Will you be usin' the knife, sir?"
"The knife? Certainly!"
"I'm not knowin'," said the mother, "what little Teddy will say t' that."
"What say, son?" the Doctor inquired.
"Will it be you that's t' use the knife?" asked Teddy.
"Mm-m!" said the Doctor. He grinned and twinkled. "I'm the butcher, sir."