"How do you feel, Mr. Clinton?" asked Harry.
"Horribly, Mr. Vane," answered Clinton, with a languid shudder. "I
never thought it was such a bore, crossing the ocean, don't you know.
I've a great idea of offering the captain a handsome sum to land
somewhere, I don't care where."
"I don't think we shall go near any land, Mr. Clinton. I think you
will have to make the best of it."
Hearing a step behind him, Harry turned, and his eyes rested on the
melancholy countenance of Marmaduke Timmins, the chronic invalid.
"Good-morning, Mr. Timmins," said our hero. "I hope you stand the
voyage well?"
"I've had several new symptoms since I came on board," responded
Mr. Timmins, gloomily, "and I've made a dreadful discovery."
"What is it?" inquired Montgomery Clinton, in alarm.
"I find I've mislaid or forgotten to bring my box of Remedial pills. I
don't know what I shall do without them."
"I've got a box of Brandeth's pills downstairs," said Clinton. "You're
welcome to a part of them, I'm sure."
"They wouldn't do! What can you be thinking of, young man? Do you
think there's no difference between pills?"
"I'm sure I can't tell, don't you know?"
"Young man, you are sadly ignorant," said Timmins, severely. "I've got
five other kinds of pills downstairs, for different maladies I am
subject to, but none of them will take the place of Remedial pills.
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