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STRANGE SWALLOWS
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Whilst he was going through the usual
motions—no prescription can be properly made
up until the chemist has overhauled every bottle
on the top shelf, opened most of the empty
drawers, and upset a tray of tooth-brushes—the
customer was fidgeting about the shop, and
fanning himself with a scented pocket-handker
chief.
"It's infernally hot," he said presently, "and
I don't think I ever felt so thirsty in my life.
Can I have a bottle of lemonade ? "
" Certainly, sir."
More sorting of bottles. Presently "pop"
goes a cork, and the sparkling lemonade is poured
into a mammoth tumbler. The customer drains
it at once.
" Ah-h-h ! " he crowed, wiping his mouth.
" I feel a bit better now."
A pause. Presently he asked :—
" Have you made that up yet ?"
" What, sir ?" asked the chemist.
"Why that stuff—the castor-oil I ordered."
"You've had it, sir."
" Had it! Wotty mean ? "
" I gave it you in the lemonade, sir.
"Great Scotland Yard!" exclaimed the
customer. " I didn't want it for myself I m
going to be married in half an hour I"