"You must not learn to look at things in that way," Dr. Splinters answered; "Oglander, you must learn to know better. You are in an uncomfortable frame of mind, or you would not have flouted me with that bottle, after all our friendship. Why, bless me! Only look around you. Badly pruned as your trees are, what a picture there is of largeness!" "Yes, Splinters, more than you could find in yours; which you amputate into a doctor's bamboo. But now, perhaps, you may doubt it, Splinters, because your trees are so very poor--but I have not felt any pride at all, any pride at all, in one of them. What is the good of lovely trees, with only one's self to enjoy them?" "Now, Oglander, there you are again! How often must I tell you? Your poor little Gracie is gone, of course; and a nice little thing she was, to be sure. But here you are again as well as ever, or at any rate as positive. I judge a man's state of health very much by his powers of contradiction. And yours are first-rate. Go to, go to! You are equal to another wife. Take a young one, and have more Gracies." "Splinters, do you know what I should do," Mr. Oglander answered, with his spud uplifted, "if my powers were such as you suppose--because I smashed your bottles?" "Yes, I dare say you would knock me down, and never beg my pardon till the wedding breakfast." "You are right in the first part; but wrong in the second. Oh, doctor, is there no one able to share the simplest thoughts we have?" "To minister to a mind diseased? First, he must have his own mind diseased; as all the blessed poets have. But look! The green fly--who would ever believe it, after our Siberian winter? The aphis is hatched in your young peach-shoots before they have made even half a joint. That comes of your Seymour system." "Ridiculous!" answered the Squire; "but never mind! What matter now? Then you really do think, Splinters--now, as an old friend, try to tell me--in pure sincerity, do you think that I have altogether lost my Gracie?" "Oglander, no! I can truly say no. We are all good Christians, I should hope. She is not lost, but gone before." "But, my dear fellow, will you never understand that she ought to have gone, long after? It is all very well for you, who have got some baker's dozen of little ones, and lost only one in the measles--forgive me, I know it was hard upon you--I say things that I should not say--but if you could only bring your mind--however, I daresay you have tried to do it; and what right have I to ask you? Splinters, I know I am puzzle-headed; and many people think me worse than that. But you have the sense to understand me, because for many years you have been acquainted with my constitution. Now, Splinters, tell me, in three words--shall I live to see my Gracie?" "That you will, Squire; and to see her married; and to dance on your lap her children!" So said Dr. Splinters, fearing what might happen, if he did not say it.