Neither strange noises nor machines disturbed Dixy as John rode through the busy iron-mills to the door of a small brick house, so well known that no sign announced it as the home of the only medical man available at the mills or in Westways.

John tied Dixy to the hitching-post, gnawed by the doctor's horse during long hours of waiting on an unpunctual man.
The doors were open, and as John entered he was aware of an odour of drugs and saw Dr.McGregor sound asleep in an armchair, a red silk handkerchief over his bald head, and a swarm of disappointed flies hovering above him.

In the back room the clink and rattle of a pestle and mortar ceased as Tom appeared.
John, in high good-humour, said, "Good afternoon, Tom.

My uncle has let up on the swimming.

He asked me to let you fellows know." "It's about time," said Tom crossly.