“No, granny,” said I, “you’re not foolish,”—(“Contrariwise, wery much the reverse,” interrupted Slidder)—“and I’m glad that I chanced to come in, because, perhaps, I may be able to prescribe for you as well as he.”
“Better, dear boy, better”—(“That’s it, cheer up!” from Slidder)—“and it always does me a world of good to see your handsome face.”
“Well, granny,” said I, with a flutter at my heart, as I looked up at her thin careworn face, and began to break the ice with caution, “I’ve come—I—there’s a little piece of—of—”
“Now then, dig in the spurs, doctor, an’ go at it—neck or nuffin’,” murmured my impatient companion.
“What are you saying, Robin?” asked Mrs Willis, with a slightly anxious look. “There’s nothing wrong, I hope?”
“No, no; nothing wrong, granny,” said I, hastening to the point; “very much the reverse. But—but—you heard of my accident, of course?” I said, suddenly losing heart and beating about the bush.
“Stuck again!” murmured Slidder, in a tone of disgust.
“Yes, yes; I heard of it. You don’t mean to say that you’re getting worse?” said the old lady, with increasing anxiety.
“Oh no! I’m better—much better. Indeed, I don’t think I ever felt so well in my life; and I’ve just heard a piece of good news, which, I’m quite sure, will make you very glad—very glad indeed!”
“Go it, sir! Another burst like that and you’ll be clear out o’ the wood,” murmured Slidder.