“What is your part of the country now?” I asked, seating myself near him.
“I am established within a few miles of Bury St. Edmund’s, sir,” said Mr. Chillip. “ Mrs. Chillip, coming into a little property in that neighbourhood, under her father’s will, I bought a practice down there, in which you will be glad to hear I am doing well. My daughter is growing quite a tall lass now, sir,” said Mr. Chillip, giving his little head another little shake. “Her mother let down two tucks in her frocks only last week. Such is time, you see, sir!”
As the little man put his now empty glass to his lips, when he made this reflection, I proposed to him to have it refilled, and I would keep him company with another. “Well, sir,” he returned, in his slow way, “it’s more than I am accustomed to; but I can’t deny myself the pleasure of your conversation. It seems but yesterday that I had the honour of attending you in the measles. You came through them charmingly, sir!”
I acknowledged this compliment, and ordered the negus, which was soon produced. “Quite an uncommon dissipation!” said Mr. Chillip, stirring it, “but I can’t resist so extraordinary an occasion. You have no family, sir?”
I shook my head.
“I was aware that you sustained a bereavement, sir, some time ago,” said Mr. Chillip. “I heard it from your father-in-law’s sister. Very decided character there, sir?”
“Why, yes,” said I, “decided enough. Where did you see her, Mr. Chillip?”
“Are you not aware, sir,” returned Mr. Chillip, with his placidest smile, “that your father-in-law is again a neighbour of mine?”
“No,” said I.