phial-book.

"What the deuce are they to me!" he muttered; "morbid sensibility of
character--_coffee_? No!--accompanied by vivacity and violence--_Nux_!"
He brought his book to the window, contrived to read the label on a
pigmy bottle. "_Nux!_ that's it," he said--and he swallowed a globule!

"Now," quoth he, after a pause, "I don't care a straw for the
misfortunes of other people--nay, I have half a mind to let down the
window."

Helen looked up.

"But I won't," he added resolutely; and this time he fell fairly asleep.

CHAPTER XII.

The coach stopped at eleven o'clock, to allow the passengers to sup. The
homoeopathist woke up, got out, gave himself a shake, and inhaled the
fresh air into his vigorous lungs with an evident sensation of delight.
He then turned and looked into the coach.

"Let your father get out, my dear," said he, with a tone more gentle
than usual. "I should like to see him in-doors--perhaps I can do him
good."

But what was Helen's terror when she found that her father did not stir.
He was in a deep swoon, and still quite insensible when they lifted him
from the carriage. When he recovered his senses, his cough returned, and
the effort brought up blood.

It was impossible for him to proceed farther. The homoeopathist
assisted to undress and put him into bed. And having administered
another of his mysterious globules, he inquired of the landlady how far
it was to the nearest doctor--for the inn stood by itself in a small
hamlet. There was the parish apothecary three miles off. But on hearing
that the gentlefolks employed Dr. Dosewell, and it was a good seven
miles to his house, the homoeopathist fetched a deep breath. The coach
only stopped a quarter of an hour.

"Cott!" said he angrily to himself--"the _nux_ was a failure. My
sensibility is chronic. I must go through a long course to get rid of
it. Hallo, guard! get out my carpet-bag. I shan't go on to-night."

And the good man, after a very slight supper, went up stairs again to
the sufferer.

"Shall I send for Dr. Dosewell, sir?" asked the landlady, stopping him
at the door.

"Hum! At what hour to-morrow does the next coach to London pass?"

"Not before eight, sir."

"Well, send for the doctor to be here at seven. That leaves us at least
some hours free from allopathy and murder," grunted the disciple of
Hahnemann, as he entered the room.

Whether it was the globule that the homoeopathist had administered, or
the effect of n