"But it's possible?" asked Dr. Mair, with a smile.
"Possible!" said the Sergeant; "but it's ten thoosand times mair possible that ye're cheatin' yersel' or cheatin' me. Sae ye may gang."
"But I charge nothing for my attendance, my dear sir, only for the medicine."
"Just so," replied the Sergeant; "sae mony shillings for what maybe didna cost ye a bawbee--pills o' aitmeal or peasebrose. I'm an auld sodger, and canna be made a fule o' that way!"
"I do not depend on my pills so much as on my prayers for the cure of disease," said the quack solemnly. "Oh, Sergeant! have you no faith in prayer?"
"I houp I hae," replied the Sergeant; "but I hae nae faith in you--nane whatsomever! sae guid day tae ye!"
Dr. Mair packed up his quack medicine in silence, which was meant to be impressive. He sighed, as if in sorrow for human ignorance and unbelief; but seeing no favourable effect produced on the Sergeant he said: "Your blood be on your own unbelieving head! I am free of it."
"Amen!" said the Sergeant; "and gang about yer business to auld wives and idewits, that deserve to dee if they trust the like o' you."
And so the great Dr. Mair departed in wrath--real or pretended--to pursue his calling as a leech, verily sucking the blood of the credulous, of whom there are not a few among rich and poor, who, loving quackery, are quacked.[#]
[#] It may be added as an instructive fact, that such leeches suck at least £300,000 a year out of the people of this country.