Magnolia the next day with a foreboding sense of some tragic secret about to be revealed.
But he never could have anticipated the actual revelation.
There was no difficulty in finding Ziba Linthicum's drugstore. The proprietor was a lank, thin faced man, with projecting, near-sighted eyes, and an exceedingly prim, pursed mouth. His words, uttered in the close, wiry twang peculiar to Southern Pennsylvania, seemed to give him a positive relish: one could fancy that his mouth watered slightly as he spoke. His long, lean lips had a settled smirk at the corner, and the skin was drawn so tightly over his broad, concave chin-bone that it shone, as if polished around the edges.
He was waiting upon a little girl when Philip entered; but he looked up from his scales, bowed, smiled, and said: "In a moment, if you please."
Philip leaned upon the glass case, apparently absorbed in the contemplation of the various soaps and perfumes under his eyes, but thinking only of the paper in his pocket-book. "Something in this line, perhaps?"
Mr. Linthicum, with a still broader smile, began to enumerate: "These are from the Society Hygiennick—"
"No," said Philip, "my business is especially private. I take it for granted that you have many little confidential matters intrusted to you."
"Oh, undoubtedly, sir! Quite as much so as a physician."
"You are aware also that mistakes sometimes occur in making up prescriptions, or in using them afterwards?"
"Not by me, I should hope. I keep a record of every dangerous ingredient which goes out of my hands."
"Ah!" Philip exclaimed. Then he paused, uncertain
