In the constant habit of sending for the doctor on every trifling occasion, whether it occurred at noonday or midnight, it is not to be wondered at that a pretty large bill should find its way to Mr. Marvel at the end of the year.  And this was not the worst of it; the health of his whole family suffered in no slight degree from the fact of each individual being so frequently under the influence of medicine.  Poor Charley was victimized almost every week; and, instead of being a fresh, hearty boy, began to show a pale, thin face, and every indication of a weakened vital action.  This appearance only increased the evil, for both parents, growing more anxious in consequence, were more urgent to have him placed under treatment.  Dr. Elton sometimes remonstrated with them, but to no purpose; and yielding to their ignorance and their anxiety, became a party in the destruction of the boy’s health.

“What is that, my dear?” asked Mrs. Marvel of her husband, some ten months after their introduction to the reader, as the latter regarded, with no pleasant countenance, a small piece of paper which he held in his hand.

“Why, it’s Dr. Elton’s bill.”

“Indeed!  How much is it?”

“One hundred and fifty dollars!”

“Oh, husband!”

“Did you ever hear of such a thing?”

“One hundred and fifty dollars, did you say?”

“Yes, one hundred and fifty dollars.  A’n’t it outrageous?”

“It’s scandalous!  It’s downright swindling!  I’d never pay it in the world!  Who ever heard of such a thing!  One hundred and fifty dollars for one year’s attendance!  Good gracious!”—­and Mrs. Marvel held up her hands, and lifted her eyes in profound astonishment.

“I can’t understand it!” said Mr. Marvel.  “Why, nobody’s had a spell of sickness in the family for the whole year.  Charley’s been a little sick once or twice; but nothing of much consequence.  There must be something wrong about it.  I’ll go right off and see him, and have an understanding about it at once.”

Carrying out his resolution on the instant, Mr. Marvel left the house and proceeded with rapid steps toward the office of Dr. Elton.  He found that individual in.

“Good morning Mr. Marvel!  How do you do to-day?” said the doctor, who understood from his countenance that something was wrong, and had an instinctive perception of its nature.

“Good morning, doctor!  I got your bill to-day.”

“Yes, sir; I sent it out.”

“But a’n’t there something wrong about it, doctor?”

“No, I presume not.  I make my charges carefully, and draw off my bills in exact accordance with them.”

“But there must be, doctor.  How in the world could you make a bill of one hundred and fifty dollars against me?  I’ve had no serious sickness in my family.”

“And yet, Mr. Marvel, I have been called in almost every week, and sometimes three or four times in as many days.”