"But why?" exclaimed the Hon. Mrs. Strudwicke-Moses, who, by this time, was seriously alarmed.
"For the same reason which causes you to despise them," explained the doctor.
"But," protested Mrs. Strudwicke-Moses, "I love the dear things! They are so unfortunate."
"I believe," declared the doctor, "that our feeling is identical; but, even to oblige a lady, I cannot call it love.
"When," he continued, "a large number of stout men are pleased to starve and shiver for no other reason than that I desire a trout-stream, I consider them to be worthy neither of love nor pity. I consider them to deserve what may be termed a helping foot, and when they have paid for my trout-stream I shall jolly well see that they get it."
Said the Hon. Mrs. Strudwicke-Moses, as she rose to her feet--
"I must confess, Doctor, that your bitterness surprises me. I can't think how anybody _could_ feel angry with the poor dear things. For my part," she added, arranging her furs, "I love them. They are so unfortunate!"
A small blue document reached the doctor recently. I don't remember exactly what words it contained; but there were references to God and the King and certain commands and threats thereto pertaining. And late that same night the doctor, looking wistfully upon a large bottle of claret, uttered these words--
"That's a deuced good wine, that is, and I'm dog-tired, damme, and it's a dog's night, dammit. But I've got to hustle out into the thick of it, and do two 'midders' and a damnable post-mortem. You'd better come along."
I went along--not exactly because I wanted to, but because my better nature told me that I could drink the doctor's claret with more decency when claret-time came round if I had first earned my share. "But," said I to the doctor, "I will thank you to take notice that I have no intention whatever of watching you perform post-mortems."
"I don't perform post-mortems," replied my host. "This is one of the little matters which we 'arrange.'"
Knowing that this mysterious statement was one which time itself would explain, I did not ask any questions, but put on my boots instead, and we walked out into the murk and slosh, and the doctor went into two pig-styes and ushered in two lives, and I stood in two doorways and caught two colds.