Though trained as a healer, Wystan Pomfrey, like his father before him, was not the hospital sort. While the Doctors Pomfrey did keep offices, theirs was a practice of house calls—cases like Miss Sprout's were, in Stan's humble estimation, far more meaningful than conferring with a wealthy man regarding his gout.

"I could not know for certain that you yourself were not dire," the physician offered reassuringly, eyes moving to meet her own again, "without investigating the matter, Miss Sprout. I am, however, very glad that it was not the case."

He might have added something about triaging and the like, that if a patient were actively dying he would have gone to them first, but Miss Sprout had no use for the ins and outs of medical practice, particularly in her present chastened (and recumbent) position.

Sina had described Miss Sprout as 'older, herbologist'—but that his sister had included the witch before him at all in her list of potentials said a great deal. 'Older' Miss Sprout might be, at least on paper, but she had a charming innocence and earnestness to her. She plainly cared about the wellbeing of others (the peculiarly named Tchaikovsky) and, despite today's lapse in judgement, must have a clever head upon her shoulders to be so well-versed in the realm of herbology. Were she not abed and Stan not tending to her in a professional capacity—were they at a ball, for example—Wystan might have asked Miss Sprout to dance.

"I will suggest," Stan added, "ideed, I will direct that you remain at home and without strain for a further two days, so that we might be certain any lingering ill-effects have dissipated."