rags off," he called to Paddy, "and I 'll rub you down as if you were the finest horse that ever followed the hounds."
There was a great smell of medicine in the air as he lubricated Paddy over the bruised places; then Jem Bottles came under his hands, and either he was not so much hurt as Paddy was, or he made less fuss about it, for he glared at the Doctor all the time he was attending him, and said nothing.
It seemed an inhospitable thing to misuse a man who had acted the good Samaritan so arduously as the little Doctor with three quarters of his bottle gone, but as he slapped the cork in it again I stepped to the door and turned the key. Paddy was scowling now and then, and groaning now and again, when the cheerful Doctor said to him, as is the way with physicians when they wish to encourage a patient:
"Oh, you 're not hurt nearly as bad as you think you are. You 'll be a little sore and stiff in the morning, that 's all, and I 'll leave the bottle with you."
"You 've never rubbed me at all on the worst place," said Paddy angrily.
"Where was that?" asked Doctor Chord,—and the words were hardly out of his mouth when Paddy hit him one in the right eye that sent him staggering across the room.
"There 's where I got the blow that knocked me down," cried Paddy.
Doctor Chord threw a wild glance at the door, when Jem Bottles, with a little run and a lift of his foot, gave him one behind that caused the Doctor to turn a somersault.
"Take that, you thief," said Jem; "and now you 've
