Ah--pray do not mind me, doctor." "You were hurt, you know, Denner," said the rector, whose feet were planted wide apart, and his hands thrust down in his pockets, and who felt oppressed by the consciousness of his own superabundant vitality, for the lawyer looked so small and thin, and his voice was hardly more than a whisper.

"You've been a little faint.

You'll be all right soon.
But Giff's going to put a bed up in here for you, because you might find it uncomfortable to try to get up-stairs, you know." Mr.Denner looked anxious at this; he wondered if Mary would not be offended; but he was too strangely weary to talk, and his little twinkling eyes were dim and blurred.
Gifford and Mary had carried down the four big posts of Mr.Denner's bed, which looked like mahogany obelisks, and began to put it together, with many interruptions for Mary to wipe her eyes on the corner of her gingham apron, and remark it would soon be over, and she did not know where she would ever get such another place.

Once the rector turned and sharply bade her hold her tongue.

Mr.Denner opened his eyes at that, though he had scarcely seemed to hear her.