Southern slur and intonation. "My husband was taken suddenly ill about
ten minutes before you came. He has had attacks of heart trouble
before--some of them were very bad." His clothed state and the late hour
seemed to prompt her to further explanation. "He had been out late;
to--a supper, I believe."

Doctor James now turned his attention to his patient. In whichever of
his "professions" he happened to be engaged he was wont to honor the
"case" or the "job" with his whole interest.

The sick man appeared to be about thirty. His countenance bore a look of
boldness and dissipation, but was not without a symmetry of feature and
the fine lines drawn by a taste and indulgence in humor that gave the
redeeming touch. There was an odor of spilled wine about his clothes.

The physician laid back his outer garments, and then, with a penknife,
slit the shirt-front from collar to waist. The obstacles cleared, he
laid his ear to the heart and listened intently.

"Mitral regurgitation?" he said, softly, when he rose. The words ended
with the rising inflection of uncertainty. Again he listened long; and
this time he said, "Mitral insufficiency," with the accent of an assured
diagnosis.

"Madam," he began, in the reassuring tones that had so often allayed
anxiety, "there is a probability--" As he slowly turned his head to face
the lady, he saw her fall, white and swooning, into the arms of the old
negress.

"Po' lamb! po' lamb! Has dey done killed Aunt Cindy's own blessed child?