If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not said the Humbug, backing away to the far corner of the wagon. I don’t want to be cured of beautiful sounds insisted Milo. Besides growled Tock, who decided that he didn’t much like Dr. Dischord, there is no such illness as lack of noise. Of course not replied the doctor, pouring himself a small glass of the liquid; that’s what makes it so difficult to cure. I only treat illnesses that don’t exist: that way, if I can’t cure them, there’s no harm done—just one of the precautions of the trade he concluded, and seeing that no one was about to take his medicine, he again reached toward the shelf, removed a dark-amber bottle, dusted it carefully, and placed it on the table in front of him.