The doctor nodded. Wonder had made him speechless. "That’s good now," ejaculated the visitor, holding tight to the mantelpiece as he fished with his umbrella for a chair. "Give me a sound domestic practus. It’s these damned Alcoholics and so forth which Oi deprecate, Doctorrr. They’re no use to a man. They nevorrr pay up, they nevorrr git bettorrr, and, be jabers, they nevorrr damned well die. Ye put the takuns at three hunderrrd, Doctorrr? Begad, ’tis a poor inkum. Faith, Oi’ve known a man do bettorrr cuttin’ corns. ’Tis a cash trade, is ut not, Doctorrr?" "It is," said Dr. Brink. "What can I do for you?" "Do for me?" echoed the visitor. "Whoi, if tis a drink yure profferin’ me, Doctorrr, Oi will name the ush’ll. Three hunderrrd, eh? Begad, ’tis a paltry inkum—a damned dirrrty, snivelling sneakin’ wasp-waisted inkum for a gentleman to live upon. But ’tis a cash trade, to be shure, and there’s no anxiety, to be shure. If they die, why, dammit, they die. You take yure thruppence and they take their chance. A veterinary trade, in fact, Doctorrr. Do ye walk yure rounds, Doctorrr?" "Cab ’em," snapped out Dr. Brink. The visitor held on to the mantelpiece with both hands. "Holy Motherrr!" he cried. "A cab is ut, ye say? On three hunderrrd? And Oi been surgeon-majorrr in th’ Army! Whoi, begad, Doctorrr, I have known the toimes when half a dozen of us in th’ Eightieth could drink yure cab away at a sittin’. Cab did Oi say? Be the grace of Heaven, there was gentlemen with us would dispose of a pair-horse brougham in the same period. Cab? To the divil with cabs. Oi must stump ut. Stump ut on me ten old toes. Meself, moind ye—a retired surgeon-majorrr of her late Majesty’s Army. And me over sixty, Doctorrr! It is thus that Britain treats her warriors. Begad, they’ve even stole me pension from me. When do Oi take overr, Doctorrr?" "Take over what?" "Why, dammit, man," began the visitor, but his flush of anger suddenly died down. A look of bewilderment took its place. "Will ye pardon me, Doctorrr," said the visitor slowly, in a voice which sounded husky. "But tell me am Oi roight in assuming that I was privileged to meet ye hearrr lost noight?" The doctor shook his head. "Then," cried the visitor, moved this time by an evidently powerful emotion, "then tell me, man, for God’s sake, tell me, is this not the practus I bought from ye last noight?" "You certainly haven’t bought _this_ practice," responded Dr. Brink. "It isn’t for sale." "Begad," mused the visitor, slowly rubbing his chin, "begad, Oi might have known as much. It is a fine place ye have hearrr. Ye wouldn’t be for sellin’ ut. Not be any means. ’Tis a fine place and a fine practus. Indeed you would be foolish to part with ut, Doctorrr. At any rate, for the sum Oi paid ye yesterday. But, begad, Oi never paid ut ye. Indeed I didn’t. Was I so drunk then? Oi doubt ut.