"Drink this," he ordered.
"I won't. Am I to be dictated to by a boy?" replied the doctor. "What on earth is the matter with my leg?"
"I've made it fast below. It's anchored."
"You scoundrel! I'll have you arrested. I'll give you six months. Go and undo my leg."
"Not yet. You've got to take your medicine. Your blood wants cooling off. I'll give you some leeches presently."
Tommy held the medicine to the doctor's lips, and forced him to drink the contents, which very soon had a griping effect.
"Oh!" he cried, putting his hands to his vest, "this is awful!"
"Will you ever put leeches on me again?" said Tommy.
"Never in the wide world. Let me go, there's a good boy. I'll make you a handsome present. I will indeed."
"Do you forgive me, and promise never to say a word about this?"