Off-Hand Sketches, a Little Dashed with HumorArthur, T. S. (Timothy Shay)
General
Off-Hand Sketches, a Little Dashed with Humor
Arthur, T. S. (Timothy Shay)
Fiction; Short stories
"Oh, no. I don't insinuate any thing at all, doctor," answered the
pale-looking man. "But I'd like to see this Mr. John Johnson, and
have a little talk with him."
"You can do that, if you'll take the trouble to call on him," said
the doctor, in an off-hand way.
"Where can I find him?" asked the man.
"He lives a little way out of town; about three miles on the
Fredrick turnpike."
"Ah, so far?"
"Yes. Go out until you come to the three-mile stone; then keep on to
the first road, turning off to the right, along which you will go
about a quarter of a mile, when you will see a brick house. Mr.
Johnson lives there."
The thin, sallow-faced man bowed and retired. As he left the store,
the doctor gave a low chuckle, and then said, half aloud--"I guess
he won't try to find this Mr. John Johnson."
But he was mistaken. Three hours afterwards, the sick man entered
the shop, and, sinking upon a chair with an expression of weariness,
said, in a fretful tone--
"Well, doctor, I've been out where you said, but no Mr. John Johnson
lives there."
"Mr. Johnson lives at the place to which I directed you," said the
doctor, positively.
But the man shook his head.
"You went out the Fredrick road to the three-mile stone?"
"Yes."
"And turned off at the first road on the left-hand side?"
"You told me the _right_ hand side!" said the man.
"Oh, there's the mistake," replied the doctor, with the air of a man
who had discovered a very material error, by which an important
result was affected; "I told you to turn off to the _left_."
"I'm sure you said the right," persisted the man.
"Impossible!" returned the doctor, in a most confident tone of
voice. "How could I have said the right-hand side when I knew it was
the left? I know Mr. Johnson as well as I know my own brother, and
have been at his house hundreds of times."
"I am almost sure you said the right!" persisted the man.
"Oh, no! You misunderstood me," most positively answered the doctor.
"Well, I must only try it again," said the man, languidly; "but
shall have to defer the walk until to-morrow, for I'm completely
worn down."
"You'd better try a bottle of the RESTORER," said the doctor with a
benevolent smile. "I know it will just suit your case. Mr. Johnson
looked worse than you do, when he commenced taking it, and three
bottles made a well man of him."
And the doctor held up a bottle of the Restorer, with its handsome
label, temptingly, before the eyes of the sick man, adding, as he
did so--
"It is only fifty cents."
"I've been humbugged too often!" replied the suspicious patron of
patent-medicine venders. "No; I'll see Mr. Johnson first."
"Well, did you see Mr. Johnson?" asked the doctor with a pleasant
smile and confident air, as the testimonial-hunter entered his shop
on the next day, about noon.
"No, I did not," was replied, a little impatiently. "Ah? How comes
that? Did you follow the directions I gave?"
"Yes, to the very letter."
"Then you must have found Mr. Johnson."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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