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Updated: June 30, 2025
Those fine nimble brethren small, Armed with pearl-shell helmets all. When Mrs. Puckridge came into the room, she always set her candle on the sill of the storm-window: it was there, happily, when the doctor drew near the village, and it guided him to the cottage-gate. He fastened Niger to the gate, crossed the little garden, gently lifted the door-latch, and ascended the stair.
But he would not until she made him feel another visit would be an intrusion. One day Mrs. Puckridge met him at the door, looking mysterious. She pointed with her thumb over her shoulder to indicate that the lady was in the garden, but at the same time nudged him with her elbow, confident that the impartment she had to make would justify the liberty, and led the way into the little parlor.
The doctor nodded his head emphatically. "Haven't you seen her?" he said. "Scarcely only her back. She walks well. Do you know nothing about her? Who has she with her?" "Nobody." "Then Mrs. Bevis shall call upon her." "I think at present she had better not. Mrs. Puckridge is a good old soul, and pays her every attention." "What is the matter with her? Nothing infectious?" "Oh, no!
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