"_Pulsatilla!_" said the doctor, almost with triumph. "I said so from the first. Open your mouth--here! Good night. My room is opposite--No. 6; call me if he wakes." CHAPTER XIII. At seven o'clock Dr. Dosewell arrived, and was shown into the room of the homeopathist, who, already up and dressed, had visited his patient. "My name is Morgan," said the homeopathist--"I am a physician. I leave in your hands a patient whom, I fear, neither I nor you can restore. Come and look at him." The two doctors went into the sick-room. Mr. Digby was very feeble, but he had recovered his consciousness, and inclined his head courteously. "I am sorry to cause so much trouble," said he. The homeopathist drew away Helen; the allopathist seated himself by the bedside and put his questions, felt the pulse, sounded the lungs, and looked at the tongue of the patient. Helen's eye was fixed on the strange doctor, and her color rose, and her eye sparkled when he got up cheerfully, and said in a pleasant voice, "You may have a little tea." "Tea!" growled the homeopathist--"barbarian!" "He is better, then, sir?" said Helen, creeping to the allopathist. "Oh, yes, my dear--certainly; and we shall do very well, I hope." The two doctors then withdrew. "Last about a week!" said Dr. Dosewell, smiling pleasantly, and showing a very white set of teeth. "I should have said a month; but our systems are different," replied Dr. Morgan, drily. DR. DOSEWELL (courteously).--"We country doctors bow to our metropolitan superiors; what would you advise? You would venture, perhaps, the experiment of bleeding." DR. MORGAN (spluttering and growing Welsh, which he never did but in excitement).--"Pleed! Cott in heaven! do you think I am a butcher--an executioner? Plead! Never." DR. DOSEWELL.--"I don't find it answer myself, when both lungs are gone! But perhaps you are for inhaling." DR. MORGAN.--"Fiddledee!" DR. DOSEWELL (with some displeasure).--"What would you advise, then, in order to prolong our patient's life for a month?" DR. MORGAN.--"Stop the hæmoptysis--give him _Rhus_!" DR. DOSEWELL.--"Rhus, sir! _Rhus!_ I don't know that medicine. _Rhus!_" DR. MORGAN.--"_Rhus Toxicodendron._" The length of the last word excited Dr. Dosewell's respect. A word of five syllables--this was something like! He bowed deferentially, but still looked puzzled. At last he said, smiling frankly, "You great London practitioners have so many new medicines; may I ask what Rhus toxico--toxico--" "Dendron." "Is?" "The juice of the Upas--vulgarly called the Poison-tree." Dr. Dosewell started. "Upas--poison-tree--little birds that come under the shade fall down dead! You give upas juice in hæmoptysis--what's the dose?" Dr. Morgan grinned maliciously, and produced a globule the size of a small pin's head. Dr. Dosewell recoiled in disgust. "Oh!" said he, very coldly, and assuming at once an air of superb superiority, "I see, a homeopathist, sir!" "A homeopathist!" "Um!" "Um!"