"'Aha! we are getting at the root of this matter now,' said Dr. G———. 'Now tell me truly. Be careful! Did you spit much blood?'
"'Yes, sir; a good deal.'
"The doctor sniffed. He always knew that a homoeopathic humbug could not diagnose a case, and would be likely to get just about as near the facts as a light cold would come to tuberculosis.
"'How long did this last?' he inquired of the smiling boy.
"'I think—it seems to me—
"'A half-hour?' queried the doctor; 'twenty minutes?'
"'I think so. Yes, sir. About half an hour—twenty minutes,' responded the obliging youth.
"I heard that talk. Common-sense told me the boy's lungs were all right; but it was none of my business, and so I watched him treated, off and on, for lung trouble for over a month before I got a chance to ask him any questions. Then I asked, incidentally:
"'What made you spit that blood that time, Gihi?' "'I didn't know I ought to swallow him,' he replied, wide-eyed and anxious. 'Dentist pull tooth He say to me, "Spit blood here." I do like he tell me. Your doctor say ver' bad for lungs, spit blood. Next time I swallow him.'
"I helped another practitioner, in good and regular standing, to examine a man's heart. He found a pretty bad wheeze in the left side. I had to nurse that man. He had been on a bat, and all on earth that ailed him was that spree, but he got treated for heart trouble. It scared the man almost to death.