"Or from me, either," said the doctor, thrusting his thumbs into the arm-holes of his vest, and striding across the room. "She has been a spoiled baby long enough; she will find earning her living a different thing from sitting with her hands folded, with Harry chained to her feet."
"What did you do with that bottle of old wine, Mis. Hall, which I told you to bring out of Harry's room? He never drank but one glass of it, after that gentleman sent it to him, and we might as well have it as to let those lazy waiters drink it up. There were two or three bunches of grapes, too, he didn't eat; you had better take them, too, while you are about it."
"Well, it don't seem, after all, as if Harry was dead," said the doctor, musingly; "but the Lord's will be done. Here comes your dress-maker, Mis. Hall."
"Good afternoon, ma'am, good afternoon, sir," said Miss Skinlin, with a doleful whine, drawing down the corners of her mouth and eyes to suit the occasion. "Sad affliction you've met with. As our minister says, 'man is like the herb of the field; blooming to-day, withered to-morrow.' Life is short: will you have your dress gathered or biased, ma'am?"
"Quite immaterial," said the old lady, anxious to appear indifferent; "though you may as well, I suppose, do it the way which is worn the most."
"Well, some likes it one way, and then again, some likes it another. The doctor's wife in the big, white house yonder--do you know the doctor's wife, ma'am?"
"Nice folks, ma'am; open-handed; never mind my giving 'em back the change, when they pay me. _She_ was a Skefflit. Do you know the Skefflits? Possible? why they are our first folks. Well, la, where was I? Oh! the doctor's wife has _her_ gowns biased; but then she's getting fat, and wants to look slender. I'd advise you to have yourn gathered. Dreadful affliction you've met with, ma'am. Beautiful corpse your son is. I always look at corpses to remind me of my latter end. Some corpses keep much longer than others; don't you think so, ma'am? They tell me your son's wife is most crazy, because they doted on one another so."
The doctor and his wife exchanged meaning looks.
"_Do tell?_" said Miss Skinlin, dropping her shears. "Well, I never! 'How desaitful the heart is,' as our minister says. Why, everybody about here took 'em for regular turtle-doves."