The silence in the room was only broken by the clinking of spoons on plates and the chomping sounds made by the young man every time he raised the spoon to his mouth.
“How are you getting on, Doctor?” one of the farm workers asked.
“Well, thanks to your prayers,” the doctor replied with a smile.
“Everyone alive and well?”
“Yes, thank God.”
“We often talk about you.”
“And I often talk about you.”
“God grant you good health.”
“Thank you. And the same to you.”
The conversation dried up of its own accord and they fell silent again. But not for long. The young man who was eating the soup took a gulp of champagne and spoke.
“Doctor, I’m drinking champagne!” he declared with a triumphant grin below the ginger moustache on his face.
“Good health,” the Doctor replied in his usual mild, b
