“Oh, do!” cried the Dodo, sitting up, and becoming interested at once. “I love doctors, they give you such nice stuff to take.”
“Ough!” shuddered Marjorie.
“I’m sure they do, then,” said the Dodo; “lovely little pills with sugar on them, and powders in jam—oh, lovely! Don’t you think powders in jam delicious?” he asked, appealing to Dick.
“No; I certainly don’t,” was the reply, as the Archæopteryx, followed by a funny-looking little old man, came running back.
The Prehistoric Doctor—for so the children found he was called—was dressed in a coarse coat made of bear’s skin, under which was a spotless shirt-front and collar; an old-fashioned pair of horn-rimmed spectacles completed his costume, while some dangerous-looking surgical instruments projected from a rough pocket tacked on to the side of his coat.
"'Tut, tut, this is serious,' said the Doctor."
“Ah!—h’m! and how are we feeling this morning?” he said, kindly, going up to the Dodo.
The bird turned up his eyes pathetically and gave a sigh.