WHEN the cataplasm was ready, a scruple of _decorum_ had unseasonably
rose up in _Susannah_’s conscience, about holding the candle, whilst
_Slop_ tied it on; _Slop_ had not treated _Susannah_’s distemper with
anodynes,—and so a quarrel had ensued betwixt them.
——Oh! oh!——said _Slop_, casting a glance of undue freedom in
_Susannah_’s face, as she declined the office;——then, I think I know
you, madam——You know me, Sir! cried _Susannah_ fastidiously, and with a
toss of her head, levelled evidently, not at his profession, but at the
doctor himself,——you know me! cried _Susannah_ again.——Doctor _Slop_
clapped his finger and his thumb instantly upon his
nostrils;——_Susannah_’s spleen was ready to burst at it;——’Tis false,
said _Susannah._—Come, come, Mrs. Modesty, said _Slop_, not a little
elated with the success of his last thrust,——If you won’t hold the
candle, and look—you may hold it and shut your eyes:—That’s one of your
popish shifts, cried _Susannah:_—’Tis better, said _Slop_, with a nod,
than no shift at all, young woman;——I defy you, Sir, cried _Susannah_,
pulling her shift sleeve below her elbow.
It was almost impossible for two persons to assist each other in a
surgical case with a more splenetic cordiality.
_Slop_ snatched up the cataplasm——_Susannah_ snatched up the candle;——A
little this way, said _Slop;_ _Susannah_ looking one way, and rowing
another, instantly set fire to _Slop_’s wig, which being somewhat bushy
and unctuous withal, was burnt out before it was well kindled.——You
impudent whore! cried _Slop_,—(for what is passion, but a wild
beast?)—you impudent whore, cried _Slop_, getting upright, with the
cataplasm in his hand;——I never was the destruction of any body’s nose,
said _Susannah_,—which is more than you can say:——Is it? cried _Slop_,
throwing the cataplasm in her face;——Yes, it is, cried _Susannah_,
returning the compliment with what was left in the pan.