litter of
glasses and bottles all round her, she was laughing away like a little
child among its toys.

"The best dispenser in the world!" cried Cullingworth, patting her on
the shoulder. "You see how I do it, Munro. I write on a label what the
prescription is, and make a sign which shows how much is to be charged.
The man comes along the passage and passes the label through the pigeon
hole. Hetty makes it up, passes out the bottle, and takes the money.
Now, come on and clear some of these folk out of the house."

It is impossible for me to give you any idea of that long line of
patients, filing hour after hour through the unfurnished room, and
departing, some amused, and some frightened, with their labels in
their hands. Cullingworth's antics are beyond belief. I laughed until I
thought the wooden chair under me would have come to pieces. He roared,
he raved, he swore, he pushed them about, slapped them on the back,
shoved them against the wall, and occasionally rushed out to the head
of the stair to address them en masse. At the same time, behind all
this tomfoolery, I, watching his prescriptions, could see a quickness of
diagnosis, a scientific insight, and a daring and unconventional use of
drugs, which satisfied me that he was right in saying that, under all
this charlatanism, there lay solid reasons for his success. Indeed,
"charlatanism" is a misapplied word in this connection; for it would
describe the doctor who puts on an artificial and conventional manner
with his patients, rather than one who is absolutely frank and true to
his own extraordinary nature.

To some of his patients he neither said one word nor did he allow them
to say one. With a loud "hush" he would rush at them, thump them on the
chests, listen to their hearts, write their labels, and then run them
out of the room by their shoulders. One poor old lady he greeted with a
perfect scream. "You've been drinking too much tea!" he cried. "You are
suffering from tea poisoning!" Then, without allowing her to get a word
in, he clutched her by her crackling black mantle, dragged her up to the
table, and held out a copy of "Taylor's Medical Jurisprudence" which was
lying there. "Put your hand on the book," he thundered, "and swear that
for fourteen days you will drink nothing but cocoa." She swore with
upturned eyes, and was instantly whirled off with her label in her hand,
to the dispensary. I could imagine that to the last day of her life, the
old l