"I will buy a go-cart," he thought,
"Blink and I will pull our weight and save the poor horses. We can at
least deliver our own milk and vegetables."
He had not been sitting there for half-an-hour revolving the painful
complexities of national life before the voice of Mrs. Petty recalled
him from that sad reverie.
"Dr. Gobang to see you, sir."
At sight of the doctor who had attended him for alcoholic poisoning Mr.
Lavender experienced one or those vaguely disagreeable sensations which
follow on half-realized insults.
"Good-morning, sir," said the doctor; "thought I'd just look in and make
my mind easy about you. That was a nasty attack. Do you still feel your
back?"
"No," said Mr. Lavender rather coldly, while Blink growled.
"Nor your head?"
"I have never felt my head," replied Mr. Lavender, still more coldly.
"I seem to remember----" began the doctor.
"Doctor," said Mr. Lavender with dignity, "surely you know that public
men--do not feel--their heads--it would not do. They sometimes
suffer from their throats, but otherwise they have perfect health,
fortunately."
The doctor smiled.
"Well, what do you think of the war?" he asked chattily.
"Be quiet, Blink," said Mr.
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