DOCTOR: It has got this much to do with me—that I _did_ examine the child’s throat. I’m not suggesting to you that I think he has diphtheria; I’m telling you that he jolly well _has_ got it. I _know_. When you go home you can see for yourself. Look in the little chap’s throat and you will see a round white patch about the size of a sixpence. That, my friend, is diphtheria. VISITOR: The boy ain’t gotter be moved. DOCTOR: That’s not my business. Somebody else will decide about that. But I don’t suppose he’ll let you murder the child, even if you are its father. VISITOR: ’E’s my child, ain’t ’e? And ’e’s in my ’ouse. Nobody ain’t gointer take my child away without I tells ’em to. See? DOCTOR: It isn’t only this one child we have to consider. What about your two other children? What about all the other children in the house? VISITOR: Let other people look after their own, same’s what I’m willing to do fur _my_ own. A man’s got a right to ’is own children and nobody ain’t gointer touch no child o’ mine without I lets ’em. DOCTOR: You stand on your rights, do you? VISITOR: That’s it. All the corpuscular ’ealth orficers in England ain’t gointer take my lawful child away from me. See? DOCTOR: I don’t know whether it’s ever been mentioned to you before, but you are rather by way of being a Social Problem. VISITOR: It ain’t your place to be saucy. I know me rights, and neither you nor any man is going to tell me as it’s right to rob a person of their lawful child. And I don’t want none of your sneers nor I don’t want none of your nicknames. You’re out o’ this job, see? I’ve called in Dr. Popham. You and yere Latin nicknames! DOCTOR: I can put it into English if you like. You’re a pudding-headed fool. Good-day. VISITOR: What about my child? Are you gointer promise to leave ’im alone? DOCTOR: Of course I am. You can kill your whole family for all I care. I’ve sent in my report to the authorities, and there’s an end of it. Good-day. VISITOR: You’ve reported, ’ave ye? Oh, very well, then. We’ll see. That boy ain’t gotter be shifted. See? DOCTOR: All right. Get out. VISITOR: We’ve called in Dr. Popham, and ’e’s weighed _you_ up. See? The boy ain’t got diftheria at all. Nor ’e ain’t gotter be shifted. DOCTOR (_in simpler terms_): May Heaven administer to your requirements. Get out. III.—EVENING VISITOR: If you please, Doctor, I come round ere about the boy Cooper. I’m the father, sir. We want you to come round and see ’im. ’E’s very bad, sir. DOCTOR: Made rather fools of yourselves, haven’t you? VISITOR: We ain’t give ’im none o’ Dr. Popham’s medsun, sir; not a drop. We want you to come round, Doctor. ’E’s very bad. DOCTOR: All right. I’ll be round in half an hour. VISITOR: Can’t you come round at once, sir? ’E’s very bad. ’E don’t seem able to swaller, sir, and there’s lumps in ’is neck. And the man from the ’ealth orfice ain’t ser much as bin near us.