Ramsden, who had been summoned to attend poor Mr Spinney, was her sole confidant, and readily entered into a scheme which was pleasing to his mistress, and promised revenge for the treatment he had received; and which, as Miss Dragwell declared, would be nothing but retributive justice upon Mrs Forster.
Late in the evening, a message was received from Newton Forster, requesting that Mr Ramsden would attend his mother.

He had just visited the old clerk, who was now sensible, and had nothing to complain of except a deep cut on his temple from the rim of the pewter-pot.

After receiving a few parting injunctions from Miss Dragwell, Mr Ramsden quitted the parsonage.
"I am afraid it's a very bad business, Mr Forster," replied the surgeon to Newton, who had been interrogating him relative to the injury received by Mr Spinney.
"Evident concussion of the brain; he may live--or he may not; a few days will decide the point: he is a poor feeble old man." Newton sighed as he reflected upon the disaster and disgrace which might ensue from his mother's violence of temper.
"Eh! what, Mr Ramsden ?" said Nicholas, who had been for some time contemplating the battered visage of his spouse.

"Did you say she'll die ?" "No, no, Mr Forster, there's no fear of Mrs Forster, she'll do well enough.

She'll be up and about again in a day or two, as lively as ever." "God forbid!" muttered the absent Nicholas.
"Mr Forster, see if I don't pay you off for that, as soon as I'm up again," muttered the recumbent lady, as well as the bandages passed under her chin would permit her.
"Pray call early to-morrow, Mr Ramsden, and let us know how Mr Spinney is going on," said Newton, extending his hand as the surgeon rose to depart.