In a low tone Mrs. Lemon said, "That's egsactly as I feel, sir."
"It's more than I dare do, sir. There it is, and there it must remain."
"And there that evil-looking bird is, I suppose, and there that must remain."
"Ah, well," I said, thinking it time to get upon the track, "and now let us talk about something else. You appear to be in trouble."
"You may well say that, sir. I'm worn to skin and bone."
"I'm sorry to hear it, Fanny. Money troubles, I suppose?"
"O, no, sir! We can manage on what we've got, Lemon and me, though he _has_ made ducks and drakes with the best part of his savings. Not money troubles, sir; a good deal worser than that."
"I wish I could say so, sir. No, sir, he's a long way from well, and I didn't know who else to call in, for poor dear Lemon wouldn't stand anybody but you."
Why poor dear Lemon wouldn't stand anybody but me was, to say the least of it, inexplicable; as, since I used to catch indistinct views of his legs when he came courting Fanny in my father's house, I had never set eyes on him. I made no remark, however, but waited quietly for developments.
"He took to his bed, sir," said Mrs. Lemon, "at a quarter to four o'clock yesterday afternoon; and it's my opinion he'll never git up from it."
"That is bad news, Fanny. But your letter to me was written before yesterday afternoon."
"Yes, sir; because I felt that things mustn't be allowed to go on as they _are_ going on without trying to alter 'em. They was bad enough when I posted my letter to you, sir; but they're a million times worse now. My blood's a-curdling, sir."
"Eh?" I cried, much startled by this solemn matter-of-fact description of the condition of her blood.
"It's curdling inside me, sir, to think of what is going to happen to Lemon!"
"Come, come, Fanny," I expostulated, "you mustn't take things so seriously; it will not mend them. What does the doctor say?"
"Doctor, sir? Love your heart! If I was to take a doctor into Lemon's room now, I wouldn't answer for the consequences."
"That is all nonsense," I said; "he must be reasoned with."
Mrs. Lemon shook her head triumphantly. "You may reason with some men, sir, and you may delood a child; but reason with Lemon--I defy you, sir!"
There was really no occasion for her to do that, as I was there in the capacity of a friend. While we were conversing I made continual unsuccessful attempts to avoid sight of the objects which had produced upon me so disagreeable an impression, but I could not place myself in such a position as to escape the whole three at one and the same time. If I turned my back upon the evil-looking bird and the portrait of Mr. Lemon, the hideous stone figure on the mantelshelf met my gaze; if I turned my back upon that, I not only had a side view of the bird's beak, but a full-faced view of my friend Lemon. Familiarity with these objects intensified my first impressions of them, and at times I could almost fancy that their sinister features moved in mockery of me. There was in them a fiend-like magnetism I found it impossible to resist.