The Doctor gave way in the end and withdrew, promising another visit before evening.  When he returned, however, at five in the afternoon, he found, with some wonder, a woman quietly installed in the sick-room.  It happened thus:—­

Barely an hour after the Doctor’s departure, Caleb, sitting at his master’s bedside, heard footsteps on the gravel walk, and looked out of window.

“Hist!” he called softly; and Peter Dearlove, followed by Paul, stepped round the angle of the house into sight.  The Twins bore a look of the gravest perplexity and a large market basket.

“Hulloa!” said Caleb, “what’s up?”

The pair looked at each other.  At length Peter began with a serious face and unwonted formality of tone—­

“Es Mr. Fogo wi’in?”

“Why, iss,” Caleb allowed, “he’s inside.”

“We was a-wishin’ to request o’ the pleasure”—­here Peter looked at Paul, who nodded—­“the pleasure o’ an interval o’ five minnits.”

“Interview,” corrected Paul.

“I misdoubts,” answered his brother, “that you are wrong, Paul. 
I remember the expresshun ‘pon the programme o’ a Sleight o’ Hand
Entertainment, an’ there et said ‘Interval’—­’An Interval o’ Five
Minnits.’”

“Ef that’s so,” broke in Caleb from above with fine irony, “p’raps you wudn’ mind handin’ up your visitin’ cards an’ doin’ the thing proper.  At present maaster’s busy.”

“Busy?”

“Iss.  A-makin’ proposals o’ marriage—­which es a serious thing, an’ not to be interrupted.”

The Twins set down the basket and stared at each other.  Paul was the first to recover.

“Ef ‘tes fully allowable to put the question, Peter an’ me wud like to knaw the young leddy’s name.  ‘Tes makin’ bould to ax, but there’s a reason.”

“Well,” said Caleb, disappearing for a moment and then poking his head forth again, “at the present moment ‘tes a party answerin’ to the name o’ Geraldin’.  A minnit agone ’twas—­But maybe you’d better step up an’ see for yoursel’.”

“What!”

“Step up an’ see.”

“Now, Peter,” said the Twin, turning from Caleb to contemplate his brother, “puttin’ the case (an’ far be et from me to say et cudn’ be) as you was payin’ your addresses to a young leddy answerin’ to the name o’ Geraldin’ (which she wudn’ be call’d that, anyway), an’ puttin’ the case as you was a-makin’ offers o’ marriage, an’ a pair o’ twin-brothers (same as you an’ me might be) walked up to the front door an’ plumped in afore you’d well finished talkin’ o’ the weather-prospec’s (bein’ a slow man, though a sure)—­now, what I wants to knaw es, wud ’ee like et yoursel’?”

“No, I shudn’.”

“Well, I reckon’d not.  An’ that bein’ so, Go’s the word.”

“Afore Peter talks ‘bout gettin’ a wife,” broke in Caleb, “he’d better read ‘bout Peter’s wife’s mother.  She was sick wi’ a fever, I’ve heerd, an’ so’s maaster.  Ef you don’t believe, walk up an’ see; ’cos ‘tain’t good for a sick man to ha’ all this palaverin’ outside hes windey.”