Mactavish was the first to try his
powers. He was aware that laudanum had the effect of producing sleep,
and seeing that Charley looked somewhat sleepy after recovering
consciousness, he thought it advisable to help out that propensity to
slumber, and went to the medicine chest, whence he extracted a small
phial of tincture of rhubarb, the half of which he emptied into a
wineglass, under the impression that it was laudanum, and poured down
Charley's throat! The poor boy swallowed a little, and sputtered the
remainder over the bed-clothes. It may be remarked here that Mactavish
was a wild, happy, half-mad sort of fellow--wonderfully erudite in
regard to some things, and profoundly ignorant in regard to others.
Medicine, it need scarcely be added, was not his _forte_. Having
accomplished this feat to his satisfaction, he sat down to watch by the
bedside of his friend. Peter had taken this opportunity to indulge in a
little private practice just after several of the other gentlemen had
left the office, under the impression that Charley had better remain
quiet for a short time.

"Well, Peter," whispered Mr Kennedy, senior, putting his head in at the
door (it was Harry's room in which Charley lay), "how is he now?"

"Oh! doing capitally," replied Peter, in a hoarse whisper, at the same
time rising and entering the office, while he gently closed the door
behind him. "I gave him a small dose of physic, which I think has done
him good. He's sleeping like a top now."

Mr Kennedy frowned slightly, and made one or two remarks in reference
to physic which were not calculated to gratify the cars of a physician.

"What did you give him?" he inquired abruptly.

"Only a little laudanum."

"_Only_, indeed! It's all trash together, and that's the worst kind of
trash you could have given him. Humph!" and the old gentleman jerked
his shoulders testily.

"How much did you give him?" said the senior clerk, who had entered the
apartment with Harry a few minutes before.

"Not quite a wineglassful," replied Peter, somewhat subdued.

"A what!" cried the father, starting from his chair as if he had
received an electric shock, and rushing into the adjoining room, up and
down which he raved in a state of distraction, being utterly ignorant of
what should be done under the circumstances.

"Oh dear!" gasped Peter, turning pale as death.

Poor Harry Somerville fell rather than leaped off his stool, and dashed
into the bedroom, wh