Let him, however, be adequately screwed up with gin, and adequately screwed down by the presence of his master, and then no amount of counting and writing would be too much for him.
This was Mr Winterbones, confidential clerk to the great Sir Roger Scatcherd.
"We must send Winterbones away, I take it," said the doctor.
"Indeed, doctor, I wish you would.

I wish you'd send him to Bath, or anywhere else out of the way.

There is Scatcherd, he takes brandy; and there is Winterbones, he takes gin; and it'd puzzle a woman to say which is worst, master or man." It will seem from this, that Lady Scatcherd and the doctor were on very familiar terms as regarded her little domestic inconveniences.
"Tell Sir Roger I am here, will you ?" said the doctor.
"You'll take a drop of sherry before you go up ?" said the lady.
"Not a drop, thank you," said the doctor.
"Or, perhaps, a little cordial ?" "Not of drop of anything, thank you; I never do, you know." "Just a thimbleful of this ?" said the lady, producing from some recess under a sideboard a bottle of brandy; "just a thimbleful?
It's what he takes himself." When Lady Scatcherd found that even this argument failed, she led the way to the great man's bedroom.
"Well, doctor! well, doctor! well, doctor!" was the greeting with which our son of Galen was saluted some time before he entered the sick-room.

His approaching step was heard, and thus the ci-devant Barchester stone-mason saluted his coming friend.

The voice was loud and powerful, but not clear and sonorous.