"Don't thank me yet," answered Doctor Drake; "wait till you're cured—then pay me."
"That will I gladly do," replied Puss, Junior; "only make me feel like myself again."
"I think," said Doctor Drake, after looking at Puss, Junior's, tongue, "you had better give up horseback riding; it's bad for you."
"Oh, dear!" sighed poor Puss, Junior. "What shall I do with my Good Gray Horse?"
"Sell him to me," replied Doctor Drake. "I'm in need of a horse. My practice is growing so large I find it difficult to make my calls."
"Yes, I suppose you do," said Puss. "Your feet are not for walking, but for swimming."
"Right you are," assented the doctor. "Of course, some of my patients live in the pond; but, then, again, a lot of them don't. Take these pills." And the famous duck doctor handed Puss, Junior, a little round box. "One every hour; they'll soon fix you up, all right. Now, how much do you want for your horse?"
Puss, Junior, scratched his head. "What will you give?" he asked, tearfully.
"Twenty-five pounds," replied the doctor.
"Very well," said Puss. "The horse is yours. Give me my money and I will journey along on foot, though it goes hard with me to part with my faithful steed." Then, tucking the box of pills in his pocket, Puss proceeded on his journey.