“Ah!” said the M.D., looking at Boy over the top of his gold-rimmed glasses. “There’s, nothing much the matter with him except a slight attack of ‘Water on the grain;’” and the M.D. passed his hand over the Wooden Soldier’s head where the paint was washed off. “A little Enamel will soon set that right; go and fetch some,” he continued, turning to a small boy in buttons standing near him. The boy hurried off and soon returned, bearing a large tin of green Enamel and a brush. Boy looked at him in amazement when he came back, for he seemed to have grown several inches taller in the few minutes that he had been away. No one else, though, seemed to have noticed it, and the M.D. took the brush and began to paint the side of One-and-Nine’s head green. [Illustration: 0075] The Wooden Soldier sighed once or twice, and then sat up and looked around him. “Well, my man, how do you feel now?” said the M.D. kindly. “Oh, a little much more better, thank you,” said One-and-Nine faintly. “That’s not a colour of much fashionableness, though, is it?” he asked, looking at the green Enamel dubiously. “It’s a most uncommon colour for the hair,” said the M.D., daubing another patch at the back of his head, “and will go beautifully with your red tunic. There, that will do nicely; take the paint away, Bill,” he said to the page-boy. “Very well, sir,” answered a voice a long way up in the air, and turning round, Boy could see that Bill, as he was called, had grown about twice as tall as he was before. His master did not seem at all surprised, however, and sent him off with the paint. “And take that medicine to the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee’s as soon as you get back,” he called out as the boy hurried off, “and say he’s to be well shaken before they give it to him.” The crowd was beginning to disperse, and One-and-Nine seemed to be all right again, although Boy thought that he looked rather peculiar with part of his head painted green. “Which way are you going?” asked the M.D., smiling kindly at Boy. “Oh! back to the boat again, I think,” answered Boy; but when he turned to the Quay he found that the boat had disappeared. “Why, it’s gone!” he cried. “Oh yes,” said the M.D., “it only stays here for a few moments; you had better come with me,” he suggested kindly. Boy thought that they might as well do that as anything else, so One-and-Nine and he followed the M.D. through the quaint street with the curious old houses. “There’s my Bronchitis,” cried the M.D. suddenly, pointing to a large house on the right, “and there’s my Sciatica opposite; I have a Whooping Cough in the next street, and the Measles a little further on,” he added proudly. Boy looked around in alarm, wondering whatever the M.D. meant. “Oh, here comes my Lumbago,” he cried, as an old gentleman walking with crutches came hobbling along the street, and then Boy could see that he had been referring to his patients.