"What do I ever give 'myself,' dear lady, but medicine?"
"Very good," said Mrs. Beever; "the presentation shall be formal. But I ought to warn you that your beautiful Circassian will have been no less than the fourth." She glanced at the parcels on the bench. "I mean the fourth doll the child's to receive to-day."
The Doctor followed the direction of her eyes. "It's a regular slave-market—a perfect harem!"
"We've each of us given her one. Each, that is, except Rose."
"And what has Rose given her?"
"Nothing at all."
The Doctor thought a moment. "Doesn't she like her?"
"She seems to wish it to be marked that she has nothing to do with her."
Again Doctor Ramage reflected. "I see—that's very clever."
Mrs. Beever, from her chair, looked up at him.
"What do you mean by 'clever'?"
"I'll tell you some other time." He still stood before the bench. "There are no gifts for poor Jean?"
