We had two physicians in Little Arcady, Old Doc and Young Doc.

Young Doc was now present measuring powders into little papers which he folded neatly, while Miss Caroline stood at hand, cowering but stubborn under Clem's violence.
"Miss Cahline, yo' suttinly old enough t' know betteh'n that.

Ah do wish yo' Paw was about th' house--he maghty quickly put yo'-all in yo' place.
Now Ah tole yo' Ah ain't go'n' a' have none o' this yeh Doctah foolishness.

Yo' not go'n' a' stravagate all that theh gole money on sech crazy doin's an' mek us be indigent in ouah ole aige.

What Ah _want_ with a Doctah?
Hanh! Anseh me that! Yo'-all jes' git me a little bit calamus an' some catnip, an' Ah do all th' doctahin' tha's advisable." All this he brought out with difficulty, for his breathing was by no means free.
"He's up to his tricks," said Miss Caroline, contemptuously, to me.
Then, to Clem, seeming to draw courage from my presence, "You be quiet, there, you lazy, black good-for-nothing, or I'll get some one here to wear you out!" And Clem was again the vanquished.
"Pneumonia," said Young Doc.