But hardly had he put his hands on my child as she lay in my lap than there came a faintly discoloured vomit.
"What have you been giving her?" he said, looking round at Mrs. Oliver.
Mrs. Oliver protested that she had given baby nothing except her milk, but the doctor said sharply:
"Don't talk nonsense, woman. Show me what you've given her."
Then Mrs. Oliver, looking frightened, went upstairs and brought down a bottle of medicine, saying it was a soothing syrup which I had myself bought for baby's cough.
"As I thought!" said the doctor, and going to the door and opening it, he flung the bottle on to the waste ground opposite, saying as he did so:
"If I hear of you giving your babies any more of your soothing syrup I'll see what the Inspector has to say."
After that, ignoring nurse, he asked me some searching and intimate questions—if I had had a great grief or shock or worry while baby was coming, and whether and how long I had nursed her.
I answered as truthfully as I could, though I saw the drift of his inquiries, and was trembling with fear of what he would tell me next.
He said nothing then, however, except to make his recommendations. And remembering my loss of work, my heart sank as he enumerated baby's needs—fresh cow's milk diluted with lime water, small quantities of meat juice, and twenty to thirty drops of the best brandy three or four times a day.