Gray ought to be.
It is just what my lady always prophesied would come to pass, if there
was any confusion of ranks."
"Poor Mr. Gray!" said I, thinking of his flushed face, and his feverish,
restless ways, when he had been calling on my lady not an hour before his
exertions on Harry's behalf. And I told Miss Galindo how ill I had
thought him.
"Yes," said she. "And that was the reason my lady had sent for Doctor
Trevor. Well, it has fallen out admirably, for he looked well after that
old donkey of a Prince, and saw that he made no blunders."
Now "that old donkey of a Prince" meant the village surgeon, Mr. Prince,
between whom and Miss Galindo there was war to the knife, as they often
met in the cottages, when there was illness, and she had her queer, odd
recipes, which he, with his grand pharmacopoeia, held in infinite
contempt, and the consequence of their squabbling had been, not long
before this very time, that he had established a kind of rule, that into
whatever sick-room Miss Galindo was admitted, there he refused to visit.
But Miss Galindo's prescriptions and visits cost nothing and were often
backed by kitchen-physic; so, though it was true that she never came but
she scolded about something or other, she was generally preferred as
medical attendant to Mr.
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