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. Locking the door behind them, he extinguished the
one source of light in the room, a small, dim oil lantern with a
greasy, black mantle.
Phineas Curick commended his good fortune as he cleaned his
tools in the examination room at the back of his "Doctor's Office."
Kender were such wonderful patients, even for someone who wasn't a
doctor! And while he seldom cured anyone outright, he assuaged his
guilt with the knowledge that he provided a great psychological balm
to people in distress. And that should be worth something, shouldn't
it?
"Ten copper pieces per examination!" he chortled happily under
his breath.
Hearing a noise in the outer waiting room, he wiped his hands on
his spattered apron and called out in irritation, "I'm closed, didn't
you see the sign?" There was no telling what might be going on, since
even locking the front door was no guarantee against a kender just
strolling into the office. "You'll have to come back tomorrow."
Many moments passed, and he heard no response.
Puzzled, Phineas stepped into the shadows of the waiting room.
"Hello!" said a deep voice in the darkness.
Startled, Phineas fell back against the wall, setting up a
chorus of rattling glass bottles. "Who are you," he demanded, "and
what do you want? You scared the wits out of me!"
"Trapspringer Furrfoot. Pleased to meet you." Phineas felt a
small hand shake his. "My friends call me Trapspringer. I'm truly
sorry I frightened you; humans are such a jumpy bunch, but I guess you
can't help what you are
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