Just obsairve, jintlemen," said Sampson, addressing
imaginary students, "how startled they all are if a docker deviates from
profissional habits into sceince, and takes the right eend of the stick
for once b' asking for the cause."
"The cause was the will of God, I do suppose," said Mrs. Maxley.
"Stuff!" shouted Sampson angrily. "Then why come to mortal me to cure
you?"
Alfred put in his oar. "He does not mean the 'final cause;' he means the
'proximate cause.
"My poor dear creature, I bain't no Latiner," objected the patient.
Sampson fixed his eyes sternly on the slippery dame. "What I want to know
is, had you been running up-stairs? or eating fast? or drinking fast? or
grizzling over twopence? or quarrelling with your husband! Come now,
which was it?"
"Me quarrel with my man! We haven't never been disagreeable, not once,
since we went to church a pair and came back a couple. I don't say but
what we mayn't have had a word or two at odd times, as married folk
will."
"And the last time you had a word or two--y' infairnal quibbler--was it
just before your last spasm, eh?"
"Well, it might; I am not gainsaying that: but you said quarrel, says
you.
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