The mayor shook his head. “That cannot be. The law I do enforce on others I may not break myself.” Margaret opened her eyes. “Alack, sir, I seek no guerdon now for curing folk; why, I am a washerwoman. I trow one may heal all the world, an if one will but let the world starve one in return.” “That is no more than just,” said the mayor: he added, “an' ye make no trade on't, there is no offence.” “Then let me see her.” “What avails it? The learnedest leeches in Rotterdam have all seen her, and bettered her nought. Her ill is inscrutable. One skilled wight saith spleen; another, liver; another, blood; another, stomach; and another, that she is possessed; and in very truth, she seems to have a demon; shunneth all company; pineth alone; eateth no more victuals than might diet a sparrow. Speaketh seldom, nor hearkens them that speak, and weareth thinner and paler and nearer and nearer the grave, well-a-day.” “Sir,” said Margaret, “an if you take your velvet doublet to half-a-dozen of shops in Rotterdam, and speer is this fine or sorry velvet, and worth how much the ell, those six traders will eye it and feel it, and all be in one story to a letter. And why? Because they know their trade. And your leeches are all in different stories. Why? Because they know not their trade. I have heard my father say each is enamoured of some one evil, and seeth it with his bat's eye in every patient. Had they stayed at home, and never seen your daughter, they had answered all the same, spleen, blood, stomach, lungs, liver, lunacy, or as they call it possession. Let me see her. We are of a sex, and that is much.” And when he still hesitated, “Saints of heaven!” cried she, giving way to the irritability of a breeding woman, “is this how men love their own flesh and blood? Her mother had ta'en me in her arms ere this, and carried me to the sick room.” And two violet eyes flashed fire. “Come with me,” said the mayor hastily. “Mistress, I have brought thee a new doctor.” The person addressed, a pale young girl of eighteen, gave a contemptuous wrench of her shoulder, and turned more decidedly to the fire she was sitting over. Margaret came softly and sat beside her. “But 'tis one that will not torment you. “A woman!” exclaimed the young lady, with surprise and some contempt. “Tell her your symptoms.” “What for? you will be no wiser.” “You will be none the worse.” “Well, I have no stomach for food, and no heart for any thing. Now cure me, and go.” “Patience awhile! Your food, is it tasteless like in your mouth?” “Ay. How knew you that?” “Nay, I knew it not till you did tell me. I trow you would be better for a little good company.” “I trow not. What is their silly chat to me?” Here Margaret requested the father to leave them alone; and in his absence put some practical questions. Then she reflected. “When you wake i' the morning you find yourself quiver, as one may say?” “Nay. Ay. How knew you that?”