Any time before the
first of February would be perfectly satisfactory. He was only too
glad to have been instrumental in dragging his old friend, Joseph
Hooper from the very edge of the grave.
"And if he has a recurrence of the--" he began suavely.
"There's no danger of THAT, is there, Doctor? cried Mr. Bingle,
gripping his fingers tightly in his coat pockets.
"Don't hesitate a moment, Mr. Bingle. Send for me. You may depend upon
it, I will come on the instant. I think your poor uncle has been very
badly--er--treated, Mr. Bingle."
"Do you attend the families of his son and daughters--I mean to say,
as their regular--"
"No," said Dr. Fiddler shortly, "I have not that felicity, Mr.
Bingle." And Mr. Bingle thought he understood why Dr. Fiddler felt
that Uncle Joe had been badly treated.
Later on, Uncle Joe blandly asseverated that it pays to have the best,
no matter what it costs. "Why, one of these cheap, rattle-brained
doctors would have let me die, sure as fate. Old Fiddler comes high,
but he cures. If I should happen to get sick again, Tom, send for him
without delay, will you?"
Mr.
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