"Well, you pay me five dollars, and owe me the balance, to be paid on condition that I help you."
She agreed to this, and handed me that amount. I was at a loss to know what to give her, and in a constant fear that the Doctor would make his appearance and spoil it all.
I excused myself, and stepping back to the "laboratory," began searching for something. At last I happened to think of a French moustache wax I had in one of my pockets, with which to train my young and struggling moustache. I quickly brought forth the box, soaked the paper label, and after removing it, smoothed the top of the pomade nicely over, wrapped it in paper, and gave it to her with directions for use; and invited her to call again and let me know how she got along. (As I recall this experience, my only cause for self-congratulation is, that what I gave her would do her no harm, if it did no good.)
She had no sooner made her exit than the Doctor "bobbed up serenely." I explained to him how I had manipulated things, and showed him my five dollars.
He began to rip and tear and swear, and declared he would dissolve partnership with me.
He said I would ruin his reputation, and get us both in jail.
I said: "Well, Doctor, I of course wouldn't want either of your patients, the Irish or Dutch woman, to hear of this, but——"
"Never mind, never mind about my patients. You take care of your own, and I'll do the same."
"Oh, thunder! all that ails you is that you are jealous because I am doing more business than you are."