“‘“A pimple! God prosper it!” I said to myself. “Has the great M.D. become a P.D.––a mere doctor of pimples?”
“‘I inspected the pimple––a very slight affair.
“‘“Why, if I were you, I’d just cover the pimple with a little square of court-plaster,” I said. “It would become you.”
“‘“What a pretty idea! That’s just what I will do,” she exclaimed.
“‘“Please charge it, Dawctah,” she said, wearily, as she resumed her solitaire.
“‘I charged a hundred dollars, but nothing could pay me for the humiliation I suffered. Going home, I pounded the mare shamefully.’
“‘You charged a good price,’ I said.
“‘Yes; but it’s like pulling teeth to get any money out of her. One has to earn it 39 twice. Worth a million, and hangs everybody up. Some have to sue.’
“‘Does nothing to-day that can be done to-morrow,’ I said.
“‘True,’ said he; ‘she don’t look after her business, and thinks that every one is trying to cheat her.’