Drew Blank


The MacTavish was not a mean man. No; he just knew the value of money.



So, when the MacTavish developed a sore throat he meditated fearfully

upon the expenditure of a doctor's fee. As an alternative he hung about

for a day and a half outside the local doctor's establishment. Finally

he managed to catch the great man.



"Say, doctor! Hoo's beez-ness wi' ye the noo?"



"Oh, feyr, feyr!"



"A s'pose ye've a deal o' prescribin' tae dae fer coolds an' sair

throats?"



"Ay!"



"An' what dae ye gin'rally gie fer a sair throat?"



"Naethin'," replied the canny old doctor, "I dinna' want a sair throat."



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