"No," said she; "not yet. I met a doctor's wife at Dr. Mayne's, and she
told me things. You must always keep them waiting; or else they think
nothing of you. Such a funny woman! 'Treat 'em like dogs, my dear,' she
said. But I told her they wouldn't come to be treated like dogs or any
other animal."
"You had better have kept that to yourself, I think."
"Oh! if you are going to be disagreeable, good-by. You can go to your
patient, sir. Christie, dear, if he is very--very ill--and I'm sure I
hope he is--oh, how wicked I am; may I have a new bonnet?"
"If you really want one."
On the patient's card was "Mr. Pettigrew, 47 Manchester Square."
As soon as Staines entered the room, the first patient told him who and
what he was, a retired civilian from India; but he had got a son there
still, a very rising man; wanted to be a parson; but he would not
stand that; bad profession; don't rise by merit; very hard to rise at
all;--no, India was the place. "As for me, I made my fortune there in
ten years. Obliged to leave it now--invalid this many years; no TONE.
Tried two or three doctors in this neighborhood; heard there was a new
one, had written a book on something. Thought I would try HIM.
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