"I beg your pardon, Dr. Donaldson. I really didn't see you. My mother's quite well, thank you. It is a fine day, and good for the harvest, I hope. If the wheat is well got in, we shall have a brisk trade next year, whatever you doctors have."
"Ay, ay. Each man for himself. Your bad weather, and your bad times, are my good ones. When trade is bad, there's more undermining of health, and preparation for death, going on among you Milton men than you're aware of."

'I beg your pardon, Dr. Donaldson. I didn't see you. My mother's quite well, thank you. It is a good day for the harvest, I hope. If the wheat is well got in, we shall have a brisk trade next year, whatever you doctors have.'
'Ay, ay. Each man for himself. Your bad times are my good ones. When trade is bad, there's more undermining of health going on among you Milton men than you're aware of.'
