of air,
and he drove you at once to this village. Write you that, and leave the
rest to me. We doctors are dissembling dogs. We have still something to
learn in curing diseases; but at making light of them to the dying, and
other branches of amiable mendacity, we are masters."

As soon as he was gone, the comely young hostess began on her patient.
"Dear heart, sir, was it really you as was blowed up with gunpowder?"

"Indeed it was, and not many hours ago. It seems like a dream."

"Well, now, who'd think that, to look at you? Why, you are none the
worse for, by a scratch or two, and dear heart, I've seen a young chap
bring as bad home, from courting, in these parts; and wed the lass as
marked him--within the year."

"Oh, it is not the scratches; but feel my hand, how it trembles. And it
used to be as firm as a rock; for I never drink."

"So it do, I declare. Why, you do tremble all over; and no wonder, poor
soul. Come you in this minut, and sit down a bit by the fire, while I go
and make the room ready for you."

But, as soon as he was seated by the fire, the current began to flow
again. "Well, I never liked Hillsborough folk much--poor, mean-visaged
tykes they be--but now I do hate 'em. What, blow up a decent young man
like you, and a well-favored, and hair like jet, and eyes in your head
like sloes! But that's their ground of spite, I warrant me; the nasty,
ugly, dirty dogs. Well, you may just snap your fingers at 'em all now.
They don't come out so far as this; and, if they did, stouter men grows
in this village than any in Hillsborough: and I've only to hold up my
finger, for as little as I be, and they'd all be well ducked in father's
horsepond, and then flogged home again with a good cart-whip well laid
on. And, another thing, whatever we do, Squire, he will make it good in
law: he is gentle, and we are simple; but our folk and his has stood by
each other this hundred year and more. But, la, I run on so, and you was
to write a letter again the doctor came back. I'll fetch you some paper
this minut."

She brought him writing materials, and stood by him with this apology,
"If 'twas to your sweetheart I'd be off. But 'tis to your mother." (With
a side glance), "She have been a handsome woman in her day, I'll go
bail."

"She is as beautiful as ever in my eyes," said Henry, tenderly. "And,
oh, heaven! give me the sense to write to her without frightening her."

"Then I won't hinder you no more with my chat,"