He examined Angelo's wound, and was really minded to say nothing for once; but Aunt Patsy was so anxious and so pressing that he allowed his caution to be overcome, and proceeded to empty himself as follows, with scientific relish: “Without going too much into detail, madam--for you would probably not understand it, anyway--I concede that great care is going to be necessary here; otherwise exudation of the esophagus is nearly sure to ensue, and this will be followed by ossification and extradition of the maxillaris superioris, which must decompose the granular surfaces of the great infusorial ganglionic system, thus obstructing the action of the posterior varioloid arteries, and precipitating compound strangulated sorosis of the valvular tissues, and ending unavoidably in the dispersion and combustion of the marsupial fluxes and the consequent embrocation of the bicuspid populo redax referendum rotulorum.” A miserable silence followed. Aunt Patsy's heart sank, the pallor of despair invaded her face, she was not able to speak; poor Rowena wrung her hands in privacy and silence, and said to herself in the bitterness of her young grief, “There is no hope--it is plain there is no hope”; the good-hearted negro wench, Nancy, paled to chocolate, then to orange, then to amber, and thought to herself with yearning sympathy and sorrow, “Po' thing, he ain' gwyne to las' throo de half o' dat”; small Henry choked up, and turned his head away to hide his rising tears, and his brother Joe said to himself, with a sense of loss, “The baptizing's busted, that's sure.” Luigi was the only person who had any heart to speak. He said, a little bit sharply, to the doctor: “Well, well, there's nothing to be gained by wasting precious time; give him a barrel of pills--I'll take them for him.” “You?” asked the doctor. “Yes. Did you suppose he was going to take them himself?” “Why, of course.” “Well, it's a mistake. He never took a dose of medicine in his life. He can't.” “Well, upon my word, it's the most extraordinary thing I ever heard of!” “Oh,” said Aunt Patsy, as pleased as a mother whose child is being admired and wondered at; “you'll find that there's more about them that's wonderful than their just being made in the image of God like the rest of His creatures, now you can depend on that, I tell you,” and she wagged her complacent head like one who could reveal marvelous things if she chose. The boy Joe began: “Why, ma, they ain't made in the im--” “You shut up, and wait till you're asked, Joe. I'll let you know when I want help. Are you looking for something, doctor?”