So Lotion got primed with the story, and having gone through the usual
routine of asking his patient how he was, how he had slept, looking at his
tongue, and reporting on the weather, when the old posing question, 'What's
the news?' was put, Lotion replied, as he too often had to reply, for he
was a very slow hand at picking up information.
'Nothin' particklar, I think, sir,' adding, in an off-hand sort of way,
'you've heard of the greet run, I s'pose, sir?'
'Great run!' exclaimed the octogenarian, as if it was a matter of the most
vital importance to him; 'great run, sir; no, sir, not a word!'
The doctor then retailed it.
Old Jackey got possessed of this one idea--he thought of nothing else.
Whoever came, he out with it, chapter and verse, with occasional
variations. He told it to all the 'cousins in waiting'; Jackey Thompson,
of Carrington Ford; Jackey Thompson, of Houndesley; Jackey Thompson, of the
Mill; and all the Bobs, Bills, Sams, Harrys, and Peters, composing the
respective litters;--forgetting where he got it from, he nearly told it
back to Lotion himself.
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