“ ‘My son John!’⁠—whom do you indicate by that name? Dr. Bretton’s mother never calls him so.”

“Then she ought. A clownish, bearish John he is.”

“You violate the truth in saying so; and as the whole of my patience is now spun off the distaff, I peremptorily desire you to rise from that bed, and vacate this room.”

“Passionate thing! Your face is the colour of a coquelicot . 133 I wonder what always makes you so mighty testy à l’endroit du gros Jean ? 134 ‘John Anderson, my Joe, John!’ Oh, the distinguished name!”