"Festina lente, good boy--that's Latin for hat and boots. Tom, are my
boots clean?"

"Ye'es, sir," replied a carroty-haired boy, whom I knew well.

The doctor laid down his pestle, and taking his seat on a chair, began
very leisurely to pull on his boots, while I stamped with impatience.

"Now do be quick, doctor, my mother will be dead."

"Jack," said the doctor, grinning, as he pulled on his second boot,
"people don't die so quick before the doctor comes--it's always
afterward; however, I'm glad to see you are so fond of your mother. Tom,
is my hat brushed?"

"Ye'es, sir," replied Tom, bringing the doctor's hat.

"Now then, Jack, I'm all ready. Tom, mind the shop, and don't eat the
stick-liquorice--d'ye hear?"

"Ye'es, sir," said Tom, with a grin from ear to ear.

The doctor followed me very quick, for he thought from my impatience
that something serious must be the matter. He walked up to my mother's
room, and I hastened to open the door; when, to my surprise, I found my
mother standing before the glass arranging her hair.

"Well!" exclaimed my mother, "this is very pretty behavior--forcing your
way into a lady's room."