Part 42 (1/2)

”Oh! oh! oh! oh! ugh!----ah!”

The Doctor got off the insensible body, and resumed his lecture calmly, like one who has disposed of some childish interruption. ”And now to th' application of the Therey: If the poison can reduce the tin minutes'

interval to five minutes, this pas.h.i.+nt will die; and if I can get the tin minutes up t' half hour, this pas.h.i.+nt will live. Any way, jintlemen, we won't detain y' unreasonably: the case shall be at an end by one o'clock.”

On hearing this considerate stipulation, up went three women's ap.r.o.ns to their eyes.

”Alack! poor James Maxley! he is at his last hour: it be just gone twelve, and a dies at one.”

Sampson turned on the weepers. ”Who says that, y' ijjits? I said the case would end at one: a case ends when the pas.h.i.+nt gets well or dies.”

”Oh, that is good news for poor Susan Maxley; her man is to be well by one o'clock, Doctor says.”

Sampson groaned, and gave in. He was strong, but not strong enough to make the populance suspend an opinion.

Yet, methinks it might be done: by chloroforming them.

The spasms came at longer intervals and less violent, and Maxley got so fond of the essence of Insensibility, that he asked to have some in his own hand to apply at the first warning of the horrible pains.

Sampson said, ”Any fool can complete the cure;” and, by way of practical comment, left him in Mr. Osmond's charge; but with an understanding that the treatment should not be varied; that no laudanum should be given; but, in due course, a stiff tumbler of brandy and water, or two. ”If he gets drunk, all the better; a little intoxication weakens the body's memory of the pain it has endured, and so expedites the cure. Now off we go to th' other.”

”The body's memory!” said Mr. Osmond to himself: ”what on earth does the quack mean?”

The driver _de jure_ of the fly was not quite drunk enough to lose his horse and vehicle without missing them. He was on the look out for the robber, and as Alfred came round the corner full pelt, darted at the reins with a husky remonstrance, and Alfred cut into him with the whip: an angry explanation--a guinea--and behold the driver sitting behind complacent and nodding.

Arrived at Albion Villa, Alfred asked Sampson submissively if he might come in and see the wife cured.

”Why, of course,” said Sampson, not knowing the delicate position.

”Then ask me in before Mrs. Dodd,” murmured Alfred coaxingly.

”Oo, ay,” said the Doctor knowingly: ”I see.”

Mrs. Maxley was in the dining-room: she had got well of herself, but was crying bitterly, and the ladies would not let her go home yet; they feared the worst and that some one would blurt it out to her.

To this anxious trio entered Sampson radiant. ”There, it's all right.

Come, little Maxley, ye needn't cry; he has got lots more mischief to do in the world yet; but, O wumman, it is lucky you came to me and not to any of the tinkering dox. No more cat and dog for you and him but for the Chronothairmal Therey. And you may bless my puppy's four bones too: he ran and stole a fly like a man, and drove hilter-skilter. Now, if I had got to your house two minutes later, your Jamie would have lairned the great secret ere this.” He threw up the window. ”Haw you! come away and receive the applause due from beauty t' ajeelity.”

Alfred came in timidly, and was received with perfect benignity and self-possession by Mrs. Dodd, but Julia's face was dyed with blushes, and her eyes sparkled the eloquent praise she was ashamed to speak before them all. But such a face as her scarce needed the help of a voice at such a time. And indeed both the lovers' faces were a pretty sight and a study. How they stole loving glances, but tried to keep within bounds, and not steal more than three per minute! and how unconscious they endeavoured to look the intervening seconds! and what windows were the demure complacent visages they thought they were making shutters of! Innocent love has at least this advantage over melodramatic, that it can extract exquisite sweetness out of so small a thing. These sweethearts were not alone, could not open their hearts, must not even gaze too long; yet to be in the same room even on such terms was a taste of Heaven.

”But, dear heart!” said Mrs. Maxley, ”ye don't tell me what he ailed.

Ma'am, if you had seen him you would have said he was taken for death.”

”Pray what _is_ the complaint?” inquired Mrs. Dodd.

”Oh, didn't I tell ye? Poisoned.”

This intelligence was conveyed with true scientific calmness, and received with feminine e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns of horror. Mrs. Maxley was indignant into the bargain: ”Don't ye go giving my house an ill name! We keeps no poison.”

Sampson fixed his eyes sternly on her: ”Wumman, ye know better: ye keep strychnine, for th' use and delectation of your domestic animal.”