The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 140: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

do so.” The medical man bowed, as he said— “May I ask his name, sir?” He had his tablet in his hand ready to book the name of Tobias, but the colonel was so very much afraid that Sweeney Todd might by some means learn that Tobias was in his house, and so take an alarm, that he would not trust even the medical man, who, no doubt, had no other motive in asking the name than merely to place it in his list of calls. “Smith,” said the colonel. The medical man gave a short dry sort of cough, as he wrote “Master Smith” upon his tablets, and then promising to return in half an hour, he took his leave. At the expiration of half an hour Tobias was put under a course of treatment. His head was shaved, and a blister clapped upon the back of his neck. The room was darkened, and strict quiet was enjoined. “As soon as he betrays any signs of consciousness, pray send for me, sir,” said the surgeon. “Certainly.” In the course of the day the captain made his appearance, and Colonel Jeffery detailed to him all that had taken place, only lamenting that, after so happily getting possession of Tobias, he should be in so sorry a condition. The captain expressed a wish to see him, and they both went to the chamber, where a woman had been hired to sit with Tobias, in order to give the first intimation of his stirring. Of course, as it was her duty, and what she was specially hired for, to keep wide awake, she was fast asleep, and snoring loud enough to awaken any one much worse than poor Tobias. But that was to be expected. “Oh,” said the captain, “this is a professional nurse.” “A professional devil!” said the colonel. “How did you know that?” “By her dropping off so comfortably to sleep, and her utter neglect of her charge. I never knew one that did not do so, and, in good truth, I am inclined to think it is the very best thing they can do, for if they are not asleep they are obnoxiously awake.” The colonel took a pin from his cravat, and rather roughly inserted its point into the fat arm of the nurse. She started up, exclaiming— “Drat the fleas, can’t a mortal sleep in peace for them?” “Madam,” said the colonel, “how much is owing to you for sleeping here a few hours?” “Lord bless me, sir, is this you? The poor soul has never so much as stirred. How my heart bleeds continually for him, to be sure. Ah, dear me, we are all born like sparks, and keep continually flying upward, as the psalm says.” “How much do I owe you?” “Here to-day, and gone to-morrow. Bless his innocent face.” The colonel rung the bell, and a strapping footman made his appearance. “You will see this woman to the door, John,” he said, “and pay her for being here about three hours.” “Why, you mangy skin-flint,” * cried the woman. “What do you—” She was cut short in her vituperative eloquence by John, who handed her down stairs with such dispatch that a pint bottle of gin rolled out of her pocket and was smashed, filling the house with an odour that was quite unmistakable. “What do you propose to do?” said the captain. “Why, as we have dined, if you have no objection we will sit here and keep this poor benighted one company for awhile. He is better with no one than such as she whom I have dislodged; but before night he shall have a more tender and less professional nurse. You know more of the world, after all, than I do, captain.” Q9OOO0GOOO CORniclooo S CO)