A knock is heard at the
door. 'Come in!' vociferates the invalid, with stentorian lungs yet
unimpaired; and enter John Abernethy, not a little surprised by
the ungraciousness of his reception. 'Who are you?' said Elliot in
thorough-bass, just inclining his head half round to recognize his
visitor, ~106~~without attempting to rise from his seat: Abernethy
appeared astonished, but advancing towards his patient, replied, 'John
Abernethy.'
'Elliot. Oh, the doctor!
'Abernethy. No, not the doctor; but plain John Abernethy, if you please.
'Elliot. Ay, my stupid landlady sent for you, I suppose.
'Abernethy. To attend a very stupid patient, it would appear.
'Elliot. Well, as you are come, I suppose I must give you your fee.
(Placing the gold upon the table.)
'Abernethy (looking rather cross.) What's the matter with you?
'Elliot. Can't you see?
'Abernethy. Oh yes, I see very well; then tasting some of the liquid in
the phials, and observing the source from whence the prescriptions had
been extracted, the surgeon arrived at something that was applicable to
the disease. Who told you to take this?
'Elliot. Common sense.
'Abernethy putting his fee in his pocket, and preparing to depart. Good
day.
'Elliot (reiterating the expression.) Good day! Why, you mean to give me
some advice for my money, don't you?
'Abernethy, with the door in his hand.
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