tor arrived at Aunt Patsy Cooper's house, he found the
lights going and everybody up and dressed and in a great state of
solicitude and excitement. The twins were stretched on a sofa in the
sitting-room, Aunt Patsy was fussing at Angelo's arm, Nancy was flying
around under her commands, the two young boys were trying to keep out
of the way and always getting in it, in order to see and wonder, Rowena
stood apart, helpless with apprehension and emotion, and Luigi was
growling in unappeasable fury over Angelo's shameful flight.

As has been reported before, the doctor was a fool--a kind-hearted and
well-meaning one, but with no tact; and as he was by long odds the most
learned physician in the town, and was quite well aware of it, and could
talk his learning with ease and precision, and liked to show off when he
had an audience, he was sometimes tempted into revealing more of a case
than was good for the patient.

He examined Angelo's wound, and was really minded to say nothing for
once; but Aunt Patsy was so anxious and so pressing that he allowed his
caution to be overcome, and proceeded to empty himself as follows, with
scientific relish:

"Without going too much into detail, madam--for you would probably
not understand it, anyway--I concede that great care is going to be
necessary here; otherwise exudation of the esophagus is nearly sure to
ensue, and this will be followed by ossification and extradition of the
maxillaris superioris, which must decompose the granular surfaces of the
great infusorial ganglionic system, thus obstructing the action of the
posterior varioloid arteries, and precipitating compound strangulated
sorosis of the valvular tissues, and ending unavoidably in the
dispersion and combustion of the marsupial fluxes and the consequent
embrocation of the bicuspid populo redax referendum rotulorum."

A miserable silence followed. Aunt Patsy's heart sank, the pallor of
despair invaded her face, she was not able to speak; poor Rowena wrung
her hands in privacy and silence, and said to herself in the bitterness
of her young grief, "There is no hope--it is plain there is no hope";
the good-hearted negro wench, Nancy, paled to chocolate, then to orange,
then to amber, and thought to herself with yearning sympathy and sorrow,
"Po' thing, he ain' gwyne to las' throo de half o' dat"; small Henry
choked up, and turned his head away to hide his rising tears, and his
brother Joe said to himself, with a sense of l