But Mrs. Henry
tearfully declared her ignorance she had listened in fear and trembling
to the sound of the two angry voices--and Henry was adamant. They had
already called in another doctor.
Mary came home greatly distressed, and, Richard still wearing his
obstinate front, she ended by losing her temper. He knew well enough,
said she, it was not her way to interfere or to be inquisitive about his
patients; but this was different; this had to do with one of her dearest
friends; she must know. In her ears rang Agnes's words: "Henry told me,
love, he wouldn't insult me by repeating what your husband said of me.
Oh, Mary, isn't it dreadful? And when I liked him so as a doctor!"--She
now repeated them aloud.
This was too much for Mahony. He blazed up. "The confounded
mischiefmonger--the backbiter! Well, if you will have it, wife, here
you are . . . here's the truth. What I said to Ocock was: I said, my
good man, if you want your wife to get over her next confinement more
quickly, keep the sherry-decanter out of her reach."
Mary gasped and sank on a chair, letting her arms flop to her side.
"Richard!" she ejaculated. "Oh, Richard, you never did!"
"I did indeed, my dear.--Oh well, not in just those words, of course;
we doctors must always wrap the truth up in silver paper.--And I should
feel it my duty to do the same again to-morrow; though there are
pleasanter things in life, Mary, I can assure you, than informing a low
mongrel like Ocock that his wife is drinking on the sly.
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