“I deny that!” eagerly exclaimed the surgeon.
“Doctor Tourniquet, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!” said the professor, assuming all his dignity.
“I deny that!” repeated the pertinacious disputant.
“Doctor, you are more than usually disputative,” remarked Zabra.
“I deny that!” continued he: and it now became evident to Oriel Porphyry and his young friend, that both the professor and the doctor were exhilarated into a state nearly approaching intoxication.
“Demonstration! demonstration! Give me accurate demonstration: I’ll not be convinced without it—don’t you see?” said the surgeon.
“Argument is thrown away upon you: you are unreasonable, illogical, and inconvincible,” muttered the other.
“Prove it! prove it! Give me the proof positive—let me behold the proof circumstantial,” exclaimed his antagonist.
“Doctor Tourniquet, I beg you’ll be silent,” said the young merchant, in a tone that admitted of no dispute; and the doctor seemed only anxious to discover the extent of the hurts he had received. “And now, Professor Fortyfolios,” he continued, “you can proceed.”