CHAPTER XV.
AESCULAPIUS TO THE RESCUE.
It was not until Puddock had returned, that the gallant fireworker recollected all on a sudden that he had swallowed one of the bags.
'Thwallowed ?--thwallowed it!' said Puddock, looking very blank and uncomfortable; 'why, Thir, I told you you were to be _very_ careful.' 'Why, why curse it, it's _not_, 'tisn't----' 'There was a long pause, and O'Flaherty stared a very frightened and hideous stare at the proprietor of the red quarto.
'Not _what_, Thir ?' demanded Puddock, briskly, but plainly disconcerted.
'Not anything--anything _bad_--or, or--there's no use in purtendin', Puddock,' he resumed, turning quite yellow.

'I see, Sir, I see by your looks, it's what you think, I'm poisoned!' 'I--I--do _not_, Thir, think you're poisoned,' he replied indignantly, but with some flurry; 'that is, there's a great deal in it that could not pothibly do you harm--there's only one ingredient, yes--or, or, yes, perhapth three, but thertainly no more, that I don't quite know about, depend upon it, 'tis nothing--a--nothing--a--seriouthly--a--But why, my dear Thir, why on earth did you violate the thimple directions--why did you thwallow a particle of it ?' 'Och, why did I let it into my mouth at all--the divil go with it!' retorted poor O'Flaherty; 'an' wasn't I the born eediot to put them devil's dumplins inside my mouth?
but I did not know what I was doin'-- no more I didn't.' 'I hope your head'th better,' said Puddock, vindicating by that dignified enquiry the character of his recipe.
'Auch! my head be smathered, what the puck do I care about it ?' O'Flaherty broke out.

'Ah, why the devil, Puddock, do you keep them ould women's charrums and devilments about you ?--you'll be the death of some one yet, so you will.' 'It's a recipe, Sir,' replied Puddock, with the same dignity 'from which my great uncle, General Neagle, derived frequent benefit.' 'And here I am,' says O'Flaherty, vehemently; 'and you don't know whether I'm poisoned or no!' At this moment he saw Dr.Sturk passing by, and drummed violently at the window.

The doctor was impressed by the summons; for however queer the apparition, it was plain he was desperately in earnest.
'Let's see the recipe,' said Sturk, drily; 'you think you're poisoned--I know you do;' poor O'Flaherty had shrunk from disclosing the extent of his apprehensions, and only beat about the bush; 'and if you be, I lay you fifty, I can't save you, nor all the doctors in Dublin--show me the recipe.' Puddock put it before him, and Sturk looked at the back of the volume with a leisurely disdain, but finding no title there, returned to the recipe.

They both stared on his face, without breathing, while he conned it over.