"It's the last bill you ever make out of me, remember that, doctor!" said Mr. Marvel, rising, and leaving the office in a state of angry excitement.
"Well, what does he say?" asked Mrs. Marvel, who had waited for her husband's return with some interest.
"He tried to beat me down that the bill was all right; but I'm too old a child for that. Why, would you believe it?—he has charged five dollars for every night-visit."
"That's no better than highway robbery."
"Not a bit. But it's the last money he ever gets out of me."
"I'd never call him in, I know. He must think we're made of money."
"Oh, I suppose we're the first family he's had who wasn't poor, and he wanted to dig as deep as possible. I hate such swindling, and if it wasn't for having a fuss I'd never pay him a dollar."
"He's charged us for every poor family in the neighbourhood, I suppose."
"No doubt of it. I've heard of these tricks before; but it's the last time I'll submit to have them played off upon me."
The visit of Mr. Marvel somewhat discomposed the feelings of Dr. Elton, and he had begun to moralize upon the unthankful position he held in the community, when he was aroused from his reverie by the entrance of a servant from one of the principal hotels, with a summons to attend immediately a young lady who was thought to be exceedingly ill.