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Floddin's horse is sick. It is a poor nag at best a fifty-cents-a-call steed. The doctor meantime has a horse from the livery. Davy is to continue the emetic treatment. He sits on the floor in the parlor and turns his orguinette. "Back to Our Mountains" is his favorite air. He has twenty-eight tunes, and he plays Verdi's piece twenty-eight times as often as any of the others.
"Your Davy, my poor fellow, had no constitution. Mind you, I do not say he would have died had I remained at my office. I do not say that. Of course, it was highly important that his stomach should be preserved. You fell in the hands of a Dr. Flod let me see our list. Why, by heavens! his name is not down at all!" Dr. Floddin's name is not in the medical peerage. Dr.
He usually charges fifty cents a visit, which is all he believes his services to be worth. This piece of quackery would ruin his name with Lockwin, were it known to him, or had Dr. Tarpion been consulted. The regular fee is two dollars. The poor come daily to Dr. Floddin's, and his fame is often in their mouths. Why is Davy white and beautiful? Why is he gentle and so marvelously intelligent?
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