“Dear me!” exclaimed the squire, who was a nervous man; “does Dr. Harvey drink?”
“Such is the rumour; how true it is, I can't say.”
“And what if he should give one of my family a dose of arsenic instead of the tincture of rhubarb, some time, when he is intoxicated? My mind is made up now. I shall send for Dr. Jones in future.”
“But, dear sir,” remonstrated Mr. Query. “I don't say the report is true.”
“Oh, no; you wouldn't wish to commit yourself. You like to know the safe side, and so do I. I shall employ Dr. Jones.”
Mr. Query turned sorrowfully away.
“Squire Worthy must have bad suspicions of the doctor's intemperance before I came to him,” thought he; “I really begin to fear that there is some foundation for the report. I'll go to Mrs. Mason; she will know.”
Mr. Query found Mrs. Mason ready to listen to and believe any scandal. She gave her head a significant toss, as if she knew more about the report than she chose to confess.
Mr. Query begged of her to explain herself.
“Oh, I sha'n't say anything,” exclaimed Mrs. Mason; “I've no ill will against Dr. Harvey, and I'd rather cut off my right hand than injure him.”