Part 2 (2/2)

”What are you--who are you?” cried he, angrily.

”What I am is n't so aisy to say; but who I am is clean beyond me.”

”Are you a doctor?” asked the sick man, fiercely.

”I'm afear'd I'm not, in the sense of a _gradum Universitatis_,--a diplomia; but sure maybe Paracelsus himself just took to it, like me, having a vocation, as one might say.”

”Ring that bell,” said the other, peremptorily.

And Billy obeyed without speaking.

”What do you mean by this, Craggs?” said the Viscount, trembling with pa.s.sion. ”Who have you brought me? What beggar have you picked off the highway? Or is he the travelling fool of the district?”

But the anger that supplied strength hitherto now failed to impart energy, and he sank back wasted and exhausted. The Corporal bent over him, and spoke something in a low whisper, but whether the words were heard or not, the sick man now lay still, breathing heavily.

”Can you do nothing for him?” asked Craggs, peevishly--”nothing but anger him?”

”To be sure I can if you let me,” said Billy, producing a very ancient lancet-case of boxwood tipped with ivory. ”I'll just take a dash of blood from the temporal artery, to relieve the cerebrum, and then we'll put cowld on his head, and keep him quiet.”

And with a prompt.i.tude that showed at least self-confidence, he proceeded to accomplish the operation, every step of which he effected skilfully and well.

”There, now,” said he, feeling the pulse, as the blood continued to flow freely, ”the circulation is relieved at once; it's the same as opening a sluice in a mill-dam. He 's better already.”

”He looks easier,” said Craggs.

”Ay, and he feels it,” continued Billy. ”Just notice the respiratory organs, and see how easy the intercostials is doing their work now.

Bring me a bowl of clean water, some vinegar, and any ould rags you have.”

Craggs obeyed, but not without a sneer at the direction.

”All over the head,” said Billy; ”all over it,--back and front,--and with the blessing of the Virgin, I'll have that hair off of him if he is n't cooler towards evening.”

So saying, he covered the sick man with the wetted cloths, and bathed his hands in the cooling fluid.

”Now to exclude the light and save the brain from stimulation and excitation,” said Billy, with a pompous enunciation of the last syllables; ”and then _quies_--rest--peace!”

And with this direction, imparted with a caution to enforce its benefits, he moved stealthily towards the door and pa.s.sed out.

”What do you think of him?” asked the Corporal, eagerly.

”He 'll do--he 'll do,” said Billy. ”He's a sanguineous temperament, and he'll bear the lancet. It's just like weatherin' a point at say. If you have a craft that will carry canvas, there's always a chance for you.”

”He perceived that you were not a doctor,” said Craggs, when they reached the corridor.

”Did he, faix?” cried Billy, half indignantly. ”He might have perceived that I did n't come in a coach; that I had n't my hair powdered, nor gold knee-buckles in my smallcloths; but, for all that, it would be going too far to say that I was n't a doctor! 'T is the same with physic and poetry--you take to it, or you don't take to it! There's chaps, ay, and far from stupid ones either, that could n't compose you ten hexameters if ye'd put them on a hot griddle for it; and there's others that would talk rhyme rather than rayson! And so with the _ars medicatrix_--everybody has n't an eye for a hectic, or an ear for a cough--_non contigit cuique adire Corintheum_. 'T is n't every one can toss pancakes, as Horace says.”

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