Give me--never mind, I'll just cut the cloth open." There was a moment of silent suspense while the wound was being reached, and then the doctor spoke again.
"Just as I thought; only a safe and comfortable gash that will keep you in-doors a while with your arm in a sling.

You are more scared than hurt, I think, old gentleman." "You think an infernal falsehood, sir!" "See here, sir," said the doctor, without ceasing to ply his dexterous hands in his art, "I'll jab these scissors into your back if you say that again." "I suppose," growled the "citizen," "it is just the thing your professional researches have qualified you for, sir!" "Just stand here, Mr.Frowenfeld," said the little doctor, settling down to a professional tone, "and hand me things as I ask for them.

Honore, please hold this arm; so." And so, after a moderate lapse of time, the treatment that medical science of those days dictated was applied--whatever that was.

Let those who do not know give thanks.
M.Grandissime explained to Frowenfeld what had occurred.
"You see, I succeeded in meeting my uncle, and we went together to my office.

My uncle keeps his accounts with me.