“And I’ll go further,” pursued that authority, lifting a purple hand and moving his old head to give emphasis to his deliverance, “I’ll go further even than that. Having retired from the pharmaceutical brotherhood I’ll say this: If you can do it, avoid drugs. Chemists”—he leaned forward and emphatically lowered his voice almost to a whisper—“Chemists alone know what harm they do.”
“By Jove, though, and do they?” said Dion heartily.
“Terrible, sir, terrible! Some people’s insides that I know of—used to know of, perhaps I should say—must be made of iron to deal with all the medicines they put into ‘em. Oh, keep your baby’s inside free from all such abominations!” (He loomed gently over Robin, who continued to stare at him with an expression of placid interrogation.) “Keep it away from such things as the Sampson Syrup, Mother Maybrick’s infant tablets, Price’s purge for the nursery, Tinkler’s tone-up for tiny tots, Ada Lane’s pills for the poppets, and above and before all, from Professor Jeremiah T. Iplock’s ‘What baby wants’ at two-and-sixpence the bottle, or in tabloid form for the growing child, two-and-eight the box. Keep his inside clear of all such, and you’ll be thankful, and he’ll bless you both on his bended knees when he comes to know his preservation.”
“He’ll never have them, Mr. Thrush,” said Rosamund, with a sober voice and twinkling eyes. “Never.”
“Bless you, ma’am, for those beautiful words. And now really I must be going.”
“You’ll find tea in the housekeeper’s room, Mr. Thrush, as usual,” said Rosamund.
“And very kind of you to have it there, I’m sure, ma’am!” the old gentleman gallantly replied as he made his wavering adieux.
At the door he turned round to face the nursery once more, lifted one hand in a manner almost apostolic, and uttered the final warning “Never cosset!” Then he evaporated, not without a sort of mossy dignity, and might be heard tremblingly descending to the lower regions.
“Rose, since when do we have a housekeeper’s room?” asked Dion, touching Robin’s puckers with a gentle fore-finger.
“I can’t call it the servants’ hall to him, poor old man. And I like to give him tea. It may wean him from——” An expressive look closed the sentence.