'The poor thing's out of health,' said the kind little old lady, in answer to all gossip about Janet; 'her headaches always were bad, and I know what headaches are; why, they make one quite delirious sometimes.' Mrs.Phipps, for her part, declared she would never accept an invitation to Dempster's again; it was getting so very disagreeable to go there, Mrs.Dempster was often 'so strange'.

To be sure, there were dreadful stories about the way Dempster used his wife; but in Mrs.Phipps's opinion, it was six of one and half-a-dozen of the other.

Mrs.Dempster had never been like other women; she had always a flighty way with her, carrying parcels of snuff to old Mrs.Tooke, and going to drink tea with Mrs.Brinley, the carpenter's wife; and then never taking care of her clothes, always wearing the same things week-day or Sunday.

A man has a poor look-out with a wife of that sort.

Mr.
Phipps, amiable and laconic, wondered how it was women were so fond of running each other down.
Mr.Pratt having been called in provisionally to a patient of Mr.
Pilgrim's in a case of compound fracture, observed in a friendly colloquy with his brother surgeon the next day,--'So Dempster has left off driving himself, I see; he won't end with a broken neck after all.