suppose the love of science was not
strong enough to make her run the risk of burning her fingers."

"It's a thousand pities," said the Doctor, as he dropped his chin with
an air of disappointment. "I am surprised none of your Scotch _scavans_
got hold of the fellow and squeezed the secret out of him. It might have
proved an important discovery--a very important discovery; and your
Scotch are not apt to let anything escape them--a very searching,
shrewd people as ever I knew--and that's the only way to arrive at
knowledge. A man must be of a stirring mind if he expects to do good."

"A poor woman below wishes to se you, sir," said a servant.

"These poor women are perfect pests to society," said the Doctor, as his
nose assumed a still darker hue; "there is no resting upon one's seat
for them--always something the matter! The burn, and bruise, and hack
themselves and their brats, one would really think, on purpose to give
trouble."

"I have not the least doubt of it," said Lady Emily; "they must find
your sympathy so soothing."

"As to that, Lady Emily, if you know as much about poor women as I do,
you wouldn't think so much of them as you do. Take my word for it--they
are one and all of them a very greedy, ungrateful set, and require to be
kept at a distance."

"And also to be kept waiting. As poor people's time is their only
wealth, I observe you generally make them pay a pretty large fee in that
way."

"That is really not what I would have expected from you, Lady Emily. I
must take the liberty to say your Ladyship does me the greatest
injustice. You must be sensible how ready I am to fly," rising as if he
had been glued to his chair, "when there is any real danger. I'm sure it
was only last week I got up as soon as I had swallowed my dinner to see
a man who had fallen down in a fit; and now I am going to this woman,
who, I daresay, has nothing the matter with her, before my breakfast is
well down my throat."

"Who is that gentleman?" asked Mary, as the Doctor at length, with much
reluctance, shuffled out of the room.

"He is a sort of medical aid-de-camp of papa's," answered Lady Emily;
"who, for the sake of good living, has got himself completely
domesticated here. He is vulgar, selfish, and _gourmand_, as you must
already have discovered; but these are accounted his greatest
perfections, as papa, like all indolent people, must be diverted--and
_that_ he never is by genteel, sensible people. He requires