"Then," continued Tommy, warming with his subject, "I'll get a lancet and stab him all over. I'll physic him with a dose of salts and——"
"'Old on," interrupted Bobsey. "S'pose he takes and sacks you?"
"I won't let him loose till he promises to forgive me."
"You'll do, young one," Bobsey said. "I don't want to offend you."
Tommy was as good as his word, for he worked hard that night with the auger, and made at least a dozen holes in various parts of the surgery floor.
The next day Dr. Slasher had occasion to find fault with Tommy, who was not making the pills the proper shape.
"You've got the mold," said the doctor, "why don't you turn them out properly?"
"If you don't like my way, do it yourself," replied Tommy.
"What!" cried the doctor; "getting impudent, are you? I'll have to give you a dose of salts and senna, young man."
"If you catch me."