‘"I won’t swallow the doctor!” he says, “I won’t swallow the doctor!"’ Sally moaned. ‘"I never touched him,” he says, “and I never will."’

Kilne angrily declared, that in his opinion, a man who rejected medicine in extremity, ought to have it forced down his throat:  and considering that the invalid was pretty deeply in Kilne’s debt, it naturally assumed the form of a dishonest act on his part; but Sally scornfully dared any one to lay hand on her master, even for his own good.  ‘For,’ said she, ‘he’s got his eyes awake, though he do lie so helpless.  He marks ye!’

‘Ah! ah!’ Kilne sniffed the air.  Sally then rushed back to her duties.

’Now, there ‘s a man!’ Kilne stuck his hands in his pockets and began his meditation:  which, however, was cut short by the approach of his neighbour Barnes, the butcher, to whom he confided what he had heard, and who ejaculated professionally, ‘Obstinate as a pig!’ As they stood together they beheld Sally, a figure of telegraph, at one of the windows, implying that all was just over.

‘Amen!’ said Barnes, as to a matter-of-fact affair.

Some minutes after, the two were joined by Grossby, the confectioner, who listened to the news, and observed: 

‘Just like him!  I’d have sworn he’d never take doctor’s stuff’; and, nodding at Kilne, ‘liked his medicine best, eh?’

‘Had a-hem!—­good lot of it,’ muttered Kilne, with a suddenly serious brow.

‘How does he stand on your books?’ asked Barnes.

Kilne shouldered round, crying:  ‘Who the deuce is to know?’

‘I don’t,’ Grossby sighed.  ’In he comes with his “Good morning, Grossby, fine day for the hunt, Grossby,” and a ten-pound note.  “Have the kindness to put that down in my favour, Grossby.”  And just as I am going to say, “Look here,—­this won’t do,” he has me by the collar, and there’s one of the regiments going to give a supper party, which he’s to order; or the Admiral’s wife wants the receipt for that pie; or in comes my wife, and there’s no talking of business then, though she may have been bothering about his account all the night beforehand.  Something or other! and so we run on.’

‘What I want to know,’ said Barnes, the butcher, ’is where he got his tenners from?’

Kilne shook a sagacious head:  ‘No knowing!’

‘I suppose we shall get something out of the fire?’ Barnes suggested.

‘That depends!’ answered the emphatic Kilne.

‘But, you know, if the widow carries on the business,’ said Grossby, ‘there’s no reason why we shouldn’t get it all, eh?’

’There ain’t two that can make clothes for nothing, and make a profit out of it,’ said Kilne.

‘That young chap in Portugal,’ added Barnes, ’he won’t take to tailoring when he comes home.  D’ ye think he will?’

Kilne muttered:  ‘Can’t say!’ and Grossby, a kindly creature in his way, albeit a creditor, reverting to the first subject of their discourse, ejaculated, ‘But what a one he was!—­eh?’