“Of course I did. I looked upon it as all imaginary.”
“But you took the fees, doctor?” said the young man, laughing.
“You took up my time.”
“But I say, doctor, isn’t that too bad?”
“Not at all. My dear sir, the medical profession. Won’t I be a poor one if we had no patients with imaginary ills. We treat them; they think we do them good; and they grow better. Surely we earn our fees.”
“Oh, but, doctor,” said the young man jocularly, “why not honestly tell them they are all right, instead of taking their coin?”
“Because if we did they would not believe us, and would go to some other medical man.”
“Then you knew I was all right?”
“Certainly I did.”
“And made me up that wretched physic to take.”