"Upon my soul, dear Prosper, you almost persuade me to be reactionary and mediaeval." The Curb turned half uneasily towards Jo, who was following at a little distance.

This seemed hardly the sort of thing for him to hear.
"You had better return now, Jo," he said.
"As you wish, M'sieu'," Jo answered, then looked inquiringly at the surgeon.
"In about five days, Portugais.

Have you a steady hand and a quick eye ?" Jo spread out his hands in deprecation, and turned to the Curb, as though for him to answer.
"Jo is something of a physician and surgeon too, Marcel.

He has a gift.
He has cured many in the parish with his herbs and tinctures, and he has set legs and arms successfully." The surgeon eyed Jo humorously, but kindly.

"He is probably as good a doctor as some of us.