Another member, an old surgeon, a somewhat grim though sociable
personage, was quite of the speaker's opinion, and felt quite sure
that the memory of the reverend gentleman must abound with such
curious tales of fair dames, of their loves and hates, their joys
and their misfortunes, their beauty and their fate.

The parson, a trifle confused, retorted that their friend the
surgeon, the son of a surgeon, seemed to him, as a man who had seen
much and heard more during the long course of his own and his
father's practice, the member of all others most likely to be
acquainted with such lore.

The bookworm, the Colonel, the historian, the Vice-president, the
churchwarden, the two curates, the gentleman-tradesman, the
sentimental member, the crimson maltster, the quiet gentleman, the
man of family, the Spark, and several others, quite agreed, and
begged that he would recall something of the kind. The old surgeon
said that, though a meeting of the Mid-Wessex Field and Antiquarian
Club was the last place at which he should have expected to be
called upon in this way, he had no objection; and the parson said he
would come next. The surgeon then reflected, and decided to relate
the history of a lady named Barbara, who lived towards the end of
the last century, apologizing for his tale as being perhaps a little
too professional. The crimson maltster winked to the Spark at
hearing the nature of the apology, and the surgeon began.



DAME THE SECOND: BARBARA OF THE HOUSE OF GREBE