THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF MOLL FLANDERS
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This stung the elder brother to the quick, and he concluded that Robin had discovered something. However, he kept himself from appearing disturbed. 'Prithee', says he, 'don't go to sham your stories off upon me; I tell you I deal in no such ware; I have nothing to say to no Mrs Bettys in the parish'; and with that he rose up and brushed off. 'No', says the eldest sister, 'I dare answer for my brother; he knows the world better.'
Thus the discourse ended; but it left the eldest brother quite confounded. He concluded his brother had made a full discovery, and he began to doubt whether I had been concerned in it or not; but with all his management, he could not bring it about to get at me. At last, he was so perplexed that he was quite desperate, and resolved he would see me whatever came of it. In order to this, he contrived it so, that one day after dinner, watching his eldest sister, till he could see her go upstairs, he runs after her. 'Hark ye, sister', says he, 'where is this sick woman? May not a body see her?' 'Yes', says the sister, 'I believe you may; but let me go in first a little, and I'll tell you.' So she ran up to the door, and gave me notice, and presently called to him again. 'Brother', says she, 'you may come in, if you please.' So in he came, just in the same kind of rant. 'Well', says he at the door, as he came in, 'where's this sick body that's in love? How do ye do, Mrs Betty?' I would have got up out of my chair, but was so weak I could not for a good while; and he saw it, and his sister too; and she said, 'Come, do not strive to stand up; my brother desires no ceremony, especially now you are so weak.' 'No, no, Mrs Betty, pray sit still', says he; and so sits himself down in a chair over against me, and appeared as if he was mighty merry.
He talked a deal of rambling stuff to his sister and to me; sometimes of one thing, sometimes another, on purpose to amuse her, and every now and then would turn it upon the old story. 'Poor Mrs Betty', says he, 'it is a sad thing to be in love; why, it has reduced you sadly.' At last I spoke a little. 'I am glad to see you so merry, sir', says I; 'but I think the doctor might have found something better to do than to make his game of his patients. If I had been ill of no other distemper, I know the proverb too well to have let him come to me.' 'What proverb? 'says he. 'What:
Where love is the case,
The doctor's an ass
Is not that it, Mrs Betty?' I smiled, and said nothing. 'Nay', says he, 'I think the effect has proved it to be love; for it seems the doctor has done you little service; you mend very slowly, they say. I doubt there's somewhat in it, Mrs Betty; I doubt you are sick of the incurables.' I smiled, and said, 'No, indeed, sir, that's none of my distemper.'
We had a deal of such discourse, and sometimes others that signified as little. By-and-by he asked me to sing them a song, at which I smiled, and said my singing days were over. At last he asked me if he should play upon his flute to me; his sister said she believed my head could not bear it. I bowed, and said, 'Pray, madam, do not hinder it; I love the flute very much.' Then his sister said, 'Well, do, then, brother.' With that he pulled out the key of his closet. 'Dear sister', says he, 'I am very lazy; do step and fetch my flute; it lies in such a drawer',
