Dr. Morgan (aside).—"The old hypocrite! He would pound me in a mortar if the law would let him."
Dr. Dosewell (aside).—"The wretched charlatan! I should like to pound him in a mortar."
Dr. Morgan.—"Good-by, my esteemed and worthy brother."
Dr. Dosewell.—"My excellent friend, good-by."
Dr. Morgan (returning in haste).—"I forgot. I don't think our poor patient is very rich. I confide him to your disinterested benevolence."—(Hurries away.)
Dr. Dosewell (in a rage).—"Seven miles at six o'clock in the morning, and perhaps done out of my fee! Quack! Villain!"
Meanwhile, Dr. Morgan had returned to the sick-room.
"I must wish you farewell," said he to poor Mr. Digby, who was languidly sipping his tea. "But you are in the hands of a—of a—gentleman in the profession."
"You have been too kind—I am shocked," said Mr. Digby. "Helen, where's my purse?"
Dr. Morgan paused.