He was very red and earnest,
rolled his eyes most strangely, and wandered in his address from
Tamsin to Geraldine, and back again with a vehemence that gravelled
all logic.
"Lord ha' mussy!" cried Caleb at last. "Do 'ee hush, that's a dear.
'Tes sinful--all these gallons o' true affecshun a-runnin' to waste.
You'm too lovin' by half, as Sam said when hes wife got hugged by a
bear. What do 'ee think, sir?"
The last sentence was addressed to the little Doctor, who, after
staring at the patient for some minutes without noticeable result,
nodded his head, announced that the fever must run its course, and
promised to send a capable nurse up to Kit's House without delay.
"Beggin' your pard'n, Doctor," interposed Caleb with firmness, "but
I've a-got my orders."
"Eh?"
"I've a-got my orders. Plaise God, an' wi' plenty o' doctor's
trade, [1] us'll pull 'un round: but nobody nusses maaster 'ceptin'
you an' me--leastways, no womankind."
"This is nonsensical."
"Nonsensical, do 'ee say? Look 'ee here, Doctor; do 'ee think I'd
trust a woman up here wi' maaster a-makin' offers o' marriage sixteen
to the dozen? Why, bless 'ee, sir, her'd be down an' ha' the banns
called afore night, an' maaster not fit to shake hes head, much less
say as the Prayer Books orders--'I renounce mun all.
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