"I'm sorry to hear about your wife, Mr. Jolly," he commented, although he did have to ponder just what the man's perception of 'beauty' was.

By chance, the old man fished out a worn silver locket from his breast pocket, which he flipped open and showed to the medical man. It showed a formal portrait of a striking and beautiful woman.

"Ah, my poooorrr wee Lizzie. She could have done much, much better than me. But never was there a better wife or more lovely companion fer a man." he sighed, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing his old eyes. Jemima, usually so rough and ready, lay a comforting hand on her Uncle's shoulder. 

"I think that's the reason I've staunchly avoided a relationship...I see so much illness and death, I don't know if I could survive losing a loved one."

"Best make sure you marry someone young and healthy and strong, then." suggested Jemima, who was reputed to be able to bend an iron bar with her bare hands. 

"So," he changed the focus of the conversation, "you can make Mr. Orr presentable?"  Maybe reconstruct the semblance of a face, but the features of a specific face? That would be interesting to see!

"Och, it's amazing what can be done with a wee bit of backlighting and a well placed aspidistra, Doctor. It'll depend on the family's wishes, o'course. I'll be off to see Mrs Orr presently and you might well come along too, Jem', I ken you're good friends wi' the lady." the funeral director ruminated looking up at his niece.

"We go to the same Spiritualist Church." Jemima told Danforth "She's all right, but I hate that stupid Amnesia!" she spat, venom animating her usually placid face. "Och ye hate everybody, girl, run along with ya!" her uncle countered, and Jemima left the room in a strop. Jolly shook his head and turned to the Doctor. 

"What am I to do with the lassie, Doctor Danforth? She hates her Brother, hates her Mother, pays scant respect to her Father, and she'd gladly shoot half the townsfolk gi'en the chance. Ahhh..." he shook his head "... what she needs is a man! But y'ken that she's nay the bonniest lass in town. Now, if only she were a corpse, why mon, I could make her look like a princess! But the living are beyond my ken. Is there nothing that medical science can do the noo, doctor?"

Yes, couldn't Doctor Danforth, with all his medical qualifications, do something to make his niece more attractive to the opposite sex? 

"I'm no a rich man" the miserly Jolly lied "But I'd pay for anything you could do to help the poor lass."

Mr Jolly could only sigh as Jonah failed to disclose any miracle cure for Jemima's frowziness. Even his sister in law, Jemima's Mother, the redoubtable Mrs Wigfall, although stout and getting on in years, had a sort of vivacious attraction for men, and her twin brother Hector, although annoying to many, was undeniably handsome: Jemima however, represented a manifestation of the family blood which somehow missed the mark. 

"But for now, I'll leave you to your work, I hope you can do the man justice for his family's sake."  The worst part of death was the survivors, because, well, death.

"Och, you'll no bide-a-wee for another dram? Aye, well, I dare say that we both have our work to get on with, grim as it may be!" Old Col acknowledged as he rose and took Dr Danforth's proffered grip.

"Jemima!" he called to the back rooms "Will ye no come bid farewell to the Doctor?" 

"She appeared and gave Jonah a shy wave goodbye." some colour in her cheeks.