I hastened to reply with civility to Mrs. Roper’s question, for that lady had just sold to me for ninepence an ancient brass tobacco jar, which expert opinion has since valued at half a guinea. "Then," said Mrs. Roper, "I will thank you to send the doctor round ’ere. Tell ’im that the stuff what ’e calls medicine is makin’ me worse." "Madam," said I, thinking rather of my benefactress than of my friend, "the doctor is outside now. Shall I——?" "I thought I seed the shadder of ’is ’at," said Mrs. Roper; "call ’im in." I called the doctor, as directed, and he came in with a brisk and cheerful air, kicking me brutally upon the shin in passing. I then, very naturally, prepared to retire; but Mrs. Roper held me back. "_You_ needn’t run away, young man," she said. "I ain’t ashamed for anybody to ’ear _my sufferings_.... Doctor, what’s to be done about me? I’m very ill." "Where?" said Dr. Brink, a little brusquely. "It’s a funny question for a doctor to ask," responded Mrs. Roper. "I thought we paid you to find things out. But we do not want to waste each other’s time, and so I’ll tell you. "What’s the matter with me is that I’m dying. That yellow medicine what you sent me ’as brought the pains on worse than ever. You will ’ave to try me with some red. Not that I look to that or any other doctor’s stuff to cure me now. Nothing can’t cure me now. I’ve been neglected too long. The on’y thing I got to look forward to now is me little wooden ulster. It’ll be a great pleasure to some people, I know, the day the undertaker comes to measure me for it. What are you laughin’ at?" "I wasn’t laughing," protested the doctor. "I was yawning." "Then what are you yawning at?" "Up all night," explained the doctor. "Ah!" quoth Mrs. Roper mysteriously, "I see, _you’re_ one of the jolly sort.... What you gointer do about me?" The doctor equivocated. "Where’s your husband?" he said. Mrs. Roper closed both eyes and shook her head. "Wherever the man may be," she responded, "you may be sure as it ain’t be the bedside of ’is dying wife. ’_E’s_ one of your jolly sort, likewise. ’E’s one o’ them good-tempered, popular fellars, ’e is. _’E_ don’t want no medicine." "I was not proposing to give him any medicine," explained the doctor. "I would like to talk to him concerning the painful state of—ah—health in which—ah—you find yourself. When will he be in?"