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Slowton, bein' obligin' though ignorant, 'as got 'im in to see yer Uncle, and there they both is, in the best parlour, with special wine an' seedies on the table." "Oh, it'll be all right!" said Robin, cheerfully, "Uncle Hugo is getting old, of course, and he's a bit fanciful." Priscilla sniffed the air. "Mebbe and mebbe not! What are you two waitin' for now?"
Slowton sez 'Good-arternoon, Miss Friday! quite perlite like, and the other gentleman he lifts 'is 'at quite civil, so I should say 'twas all wrong. For if you mark me, lovey, men's allus extra perlite when they thinks there's goin' to be trouble, hopin' they'll get somethin' for theirselves out of it." Innocent hardly waited to hear her last words.
Slowton, bein' only a kind of village physic-bottle, don't know much, an' yer uncle ain't bin satisfied. Now there's another doctor from London staying up 'ere for 'is own poor 'elth, and yer Uncle said he'd like to 'ave 'is opinion, so Mr.
"You want to know what the London doctor said," he began. "Well, child, you'll not be any the better for knowing, but it's as I thought. I've got my death-warrant. Slowton was not sure about me, but this man, ill as he is himself, has had too much experience to make mistakes. There's no cure for me. I may last out another twelve months perhaps not so long certainly not longer."
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