Granny Marrable seemed to entertain doubts of the patient's happiness. "I could never be happy," she said, "if I had been in a delusion."
"Not if you came to know it was a delusion. Very likely not!"
"But does not—does not—poor old Mrs. Prichard ever come to know she has been in a delusion?"
"Not she! What she fancies she just goes on fancying. Sticks to it like grim death."
"What sort of things now, doctor?"
This was a bite. But the doctor would play his fish. No hurry. "Perfectly crazy things! Oh—crack-brained! Has not your daughter told you?... Oh, by-the-by!—yes!—I did tell her she had better not.... I don't think it matters, though."
"But not if you would rather not, doctor!" This clearly meant the reverse.
"Well now—there was the first thing that happened, about that little model thing that stands on your mantelshelf at the cottage."
"What—my father's mill? Davy's mill, we call it now, because the child took to it so, and would have me tell him again and again about Muggeridge and the horses...."
"Ah—you told him about Muggeridge and the horses!"