Nothing of any moment transpired in the world of scandal of this
little burgh, but it was known to Frau Ilsy. She had her crew of
cronies, that were perpetually hurrying to her little parlour, with
some precious bit of news; nay, she would sometimes discuss a whole
volume of secret history, as she held the street-door ajar, and
gossiped with one of these garrulous cronies in the very teeth of a
December blast.
Between the doctor and the housekeeper, it may easily be supposed that
Dolph had a busy life of it. As Frau Ilsy kept the keys, and literally
ruled the roast, it was starvation to offend her, though he found the
study of her temper more perplexing even than that of medicine. When
not busy in the laboratory, she kept him running hither and thither on
her errands; and on Sundays he was obliged to accompany her to and
from church, and carry her Bible. Many a time has the poor varlet
stood shivering and blowing his fingers, or holding his frost-bitten
nose, in the church-yard, while Ilsy and her cronies were huddled
together, wagging their heads, and tearing some unlucky character to
pieces.
With all his advantages, however, Dolph made very slow progress in his
art. This was no fault of the doctor's, certainly, for he took
unwearied pains with the lad, keeping him close to the pestle and
mortar, or on the trot about town with phials and pill-boxes; and if
he ever flagged in his industry, which he was rather apt to do, the
doctor would fly into a passion, and ask him if he ever expected to
learn his profession, unless he applied himself closer to the study.
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