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Updated: June 21, 2025
If Doc Millikin had your case, he made the terrors of death seem like an invitation to a donkey-party. He had the bedside manners of a Piute medicine-man and the soothing presence of a dray loaded with iron bridge-girders. When he laid his hand on your fevered brow you felt like Cap John Smith just before Pocahontas went his bail.
Daisy waited breathlessly for the verdict. 'Well, said Mr. Netherby, 'it's easy enough to see what's wrong with him. I should knock off his grub. 'But, cried Miss Millikin, 'we have knocked off his grub, as you call it. The poor dog is starved literally starved. Mr. Netherby said he should scarcely have supposed so from his appearance.
There was perhaps some excuse for Miss Millikin, for Don was a particularly charming specimen of the Yorkshire terrier, with a silken coat of silver-blue, set off by a head and paws of the ruddiest gold. His manners were most insinuating, and his great eyes glowed at times under his long hair, as if a wistful, loving little soul were trying to speak through them.
And human gratitude having its limits it is highly probable that this pious aspiration will not be disappointed, so long, at least, as Mr. and Mrs. Chapman's tenancy continues. 'Daisy, dearest, said Miss Millikin anxiously to her niece one afternoon, 'do you think poor Don is quite the thing? He has seemed so very languid these last few days, and he is certainly losing his figure!
Still, it was Don's opinion that, so long as he did not mind being fat himself, it was no business of any other person's certainly not of Daisy's. 'But, Daisy, cried Miss Millikin plaintively, 'you don't really mean that I overfeed him? 'Well, Daisy admitted, 'I think you give way to him rather, Aunt Sophy, I really do. I know that at home we never let Fop have anything between his meals.
'Put him back in the cart, Daisy, said Miss Millikin severely; 'I can't bear to look at him. Don did his best to follow this dialogue, but all he could make out was that it was about himself, and that he was being as usual exceedingly admired. So he sat and looked as good and innocent and interesting as he knew how.
What if we make inquiries at the pier? It it may be all a mistake. They stopped for this purpose at Amblemere. 'Ay, Miss Millikin, mum, he cooms ahn boord reglar, does that wee dug, said the old boatman, 'and a' makes himsel' rare an' frien'ly, a' do they coddle him oop fine, amang 'em.
Millikin has reported the case of a patient who in five years had "many hundreds" of attacks, in which vision was impaired, haloes appeared about the light, the pupil dilated, the cornea became steamy, and tension rose to plus T. 1 or plus T. 2. After iridectomy the attacks ceased, leaving no pathological cupping of the disc, full vision, and a good field.
Besides this, he respected her: she had been intrusted with the duty of punishing him on more than one occasion, and her slaps really hurt, while it was hopeless to try to soften her heart by trying to lick the chastising hands a manoeuvre which was always effective with poor Miss Millikin.
"'Now let's hear you give the password, says Doc Millikin. "'Hurrah for Jeff Davis! says I. "'Correct, says Doc. 'And let me tell you something: The next tune I learn on my flute is going to be "Yankee Doodle." I reckon there's some Yanks that are not so pizen. Or, if you was me, would you try "The Red, White, and Blue"?"
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