“Cousin William,” replied the poor Captain, “I am sure I never calculated; but still, if you had seen that deceitful man’s good-for-nothing face—as yellow as a guinea—and have gone through all I’ve gone through, you would have felt cut to the heart as I do. I can’t bear ingratitude. I never could. But let it pass. Will that gentleman take a chair?”
Parson.—“Mr Fairfield has kindly called with us, because he knows something of this system of homœopathy which you have adopted, and may, perhaps, know the practitioner. What is the name of your doctor?”
Captain, (looking at his watch.)—“That reminds me, (swallowing a globule.) A great relief these little pills—after the physic I’ve taken to please that malignant man. He always tried his doctor’s stuff upon me. But there’s another world, and a juster!”
With that pious conclusion, the Captain again began to weep.
“Touched,” muttered the Squire, with his forefinger on his forehead. “You seem to have a good tidy sort of nurse here, Cousin Barnabas. I hope she’s pleasant, and lively, and don’t let you take on so.”
“Hist!—don’t talk of her. All mercenary; every bit of her fawning! Would you believe it? I give her ten shillings a-week, besides all that goes down of my pats of butter and rolls, and I overheard the jade saying to the laundress that ‘I could not last long; and she’d—EXPECTATIONS!’ Ah, Mr Dale, when one thinks of the sinfulness there is in this life! But I’ll not think of it. No—I’ll not. Let us change the subject. You were asking my doctor’s name? It is—”
Here the woman ‘with expectations’ threw open the door, and suddenly announced—“Dr Morgan.”
CHAPTER IV.
The Parson started, and so did Leonard.
The Homœopathist did not at first notice either. With an unobservant bow to the visitors, he went straight to the patient, and asked, “How go the symptoms?”