And what's that ye're studying with her? Ovid, for a pound."

"No; medicine; a treatise on your favourite organ, the brain, by one Dr.
Whately."

"He is chaffing you, doctor," said Edward; "it is logic. He is coaching
her; and then she will coach me."

"Then I forbid the chaff-cutting, young Pidant. Logic is an ill plaster
to a sore head."

"Oh, 'the labour we delight in, physics pain.'"

"Jinnyus, Jinnyus;
Take care o' your carkuss,"

retorted the master of doggrel. "And that is a profounder remark than you
seem to think, by your grinning, all of ye."

Julia settled the question by putting away the book. And she murmured to
Alfred, "I wish I could steal your poor dear headaches: you might give me
half of them at least; you would, too, if you really loved me."

This sound remonstrance escaped criticism by being nearly inaudible, and
by Mrs. Dodd entering at the same moment.

After the first greeting, Sampson asked her with merry arrogance, how his
prescription had worked? "Is her sleep broken still, ma'am? Are her
spirits up and down? Shall we have to go back t' old Short and his black
draught? How's her mookis membrin? And her biliary ducks? an'-- she's off