"And I suppose that you never have headaches, or dizziness, or vagueness and loss of sight."
"I have them all," growled the Major, with an oath, "every miserable item of them. I had an attack, about a fortnight ago, that actually laid me up in bed for a day! I wonder what it all means!"
Doctor Remy forebore to signalize his victory by so much as a triumphant look. "It means," he answered, quietly, "that you will be none the worse for a little medicine in the house, as a provision for future attacks of the sort."
And opening his pocket medicine-case, Doctor Remy selected three or four small phials, and began to measure, mix, and fold up powders, with a dexterity that it pleased the Major to witness. He noticed, too, that the doctor's brow was deeply knit as he prosecuted his task, and that he held one of the phials suspended, for a moment, over the small square of paper, before discharging its contents. All this looked as if his case was getting due consideration, and the Major was proportion ably gratified.
Doctor Remy ended by pushing a dozen or more of tiny folded papers across the table. "Take one, in water, every two hours," said he, "till the symptoms abate,—that is, of course, when you have another attack. There are enough for several occasions; I know you do not like to send for a doctor, if it can be avoided. At the same time," he added, "take care to drop those careless habits that I mentioned."
The last sentence brought a cloud to Major Bergan's brow; but the doctor gave it time to dissipate while he packed his medicine case, and chatted pleasantly about its convenient arrangements. "And now," said he, rising, "what else can I do for you?"
"Nothing, that I know of," replied the Major, "except it be to present your bill. What else can a doctor do?"
"Several things," answered Doctor Remy, lightly. "Make your will, for instance."
The Major laughed outright. "I should say that was a lawyer's business," said he.
"So it is. But do you not know that I once belonged to the bar?"