Indeed, she looked
rather funny herself, with her palette in one hand, her
brush in the other, and the blank astonishment on her
face. I stammered out something about hoping that she
did not mind, which made her more angry than ever. "The
only possible excuse for your conduct, sir, is that you
are under the influence of drink," said she. "I need not
say that we do not require the services of a medical man
in that condition." I did not try to disabuse her of the
idea, for really I could see no better explanation; so I
beat a retreat in a very demoralised condition. She
wrote a letter to my father about it in the evening, and
the old man was very angry indeed. As to the mother, she
is as staunch as steel, and quite prepared to prove
that poor Mrs. A. was a very deep designing person, who
had laid a trap for innocent Johnnie. So there has been
a grand row; and not a soul upon earth has the least idea
of what it all means, except only yourself as you read
this letter.
You can imagine that this has not contributed to make
life here more pleasant, for my father cannot bring
himself to forgive me. Of course, I don't wonder at his
anger. I should be just the same myself. It does look
like a shocking breach of professional honour, and a sad
disregard of his interests. If he knew the truth he
would see that it was nothing worse than a silly ill-
timed boyish joke. However, he never shall know the
truth.
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