She has got money and a spinal column, and as long as they both last she is more to be depended on than government bonds.

If her troubles ever get into her legs, and I have reason to believe they will, you can afford to hire a little maid for your cook.

Old Daniel Clopsey, her grandfather, died at ninety-five, and he had then the same doctorable rheumatism that he had at fifty.

I have something to think over, and I will come in again when she is gone." "Depart, O mercenary being!" exclaimed the doctor, "before you abase my thoughts from sulphate of quinia to filthy lucre." "Lucre is never filthy until you lose it," said the old lady as she went out on the back piazza, and closed the door behind her.
About twenty minutes later she burst into the doctor's office.

"Mercy on us!" she exclaimed, "are you here yet, Susan Clopsey?
I must see you, doctor; but don't you go, Susan.