s, try bromide,
If that doesnt answer, a stimulant, you know: a little phosphorus and
strychnine. If you cant sleep, trional, trional, trion--

SIR PATRICK [drily] But no drugs, Colly, remember that.

B. B. [firmly] Certainly not. Quite right, Sir Patrick. As temporary
expedients, of course; but as treatment, no, No. Keep away from the
chemist's shop, my dear Ridgeon, whatever you do.

RIDGEON [going to the door with him] I will. And thank you for the
knighthood. Good-bye.

B. B. [stopping at the door, with the beam in his eye twinkling a
little] By the way, who's your patient?

RIDGEON. Who?

B. B. Downstairs. Charming woman. Tuberculous husband.

RIDGEON. Is she there still?

Emmy [looking in] Come on, Sir Ralph: your wife's waiting in the
carriage.

B. B. [suddenly sobered] Oh! Good-bye. [He goes out almost
precipitately].

RIDGEON. Emmy: is that woman there still? If so, tell her once for all
that I cant and wont see her. Do you hear?

EMMY. Oh, she aint in a hurry: she doesnt mind how long she waits. [She
goes out].

BLENKINSOP. I must be off, too: every half-hour I spend away from my
work costs me eighteenpence. Good-bye, Sir Patrick.

SIR PATRICK. Good-bye. Good-bye.

RIDGEON. Come to lunch with me some day this week.

BLENKINSOP. I cant afford it, dear boy; and it would put me off my own
food for a week. Thank you all the same.

RIDGEON [uneasy at Blenkinsop's poverty] Can I do nothing for you?

BLENKINSOP. Well, if you have an old frock-coat to spare? you see what
would be an old one for you would be a new one for me; so remember the
next time you turn out your wardrobe. Good-bye. [He hurries out].

RIDGEON [looking after him] Poor chap! [Turning to Sir Patrick] So thats
why they made me a knight! And thats the medical profession!

SIR PATRICK. And a very good profession, too, my lad. When you know as
much as I know of the ignorance and superstition of the patients, youll
wonder that we're half as good as we are.

RIDGEON. We're not a profession: we're a conspiracy.

SIR PATRICK. All professions are conspiracies against the laity. And we
cant all be geniuses like you. Every fool can get ill; but every fool
cant be a good doctor: there are not enough good ones to go round. And
for all you know, Bloomfield Bonington kills less people than you do.

RIDGEON. Oh, very likely. But he really ought to know the difference
between a vaccine and an anti-toxin. Stimulate the phagocytes! The
vac