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no need of your shaking my family tree in the belief that a few
overripe patients will fall out。 I aloneI； me； myselfam the
present candidate！〃
However； I refrained from making this protest audibly。 I judged
she was only going according to the ritual； and as she had a
printed card； with blanks in it ready to be filled out with details
regarding the remote members of the family connection； I humored
her along。
When I could not remember something she wished to know concerning
an ancestor I supplied her with thrilling details culled from the
field of fancy。 When the card was entirely filled up she sent me
back to my old place to wait。 I waited and waited； breeding fresh
ailments all the time。 I had started out with one symptom； now if
I had one I had a million and a half。 I could feel goose flesh
sprouting out all over me。 If I had been taller I might have had
more； but not otherwise。 Such is the power of the human imagination
when the surroundings are favorable to its development。
Time passed； to me it appeared that nearly all the time there was
passed and that we were getting along toward the shank…end of the
Christian era mighty fast。 I was afraid my turn would come next
and afraid it would not。 Perhaps you know this sensation。 You
get it at the dentist's； and when you are on the list of after…dinner
speakers at a large banquet； and when you are waiting for the
father of the Only Girl in the World to make up his mind whether
he is willing to try to endure you as a son…in…law。
Then some more time passed。
One by one my companions； obeying a command； passed out through
the door at the back； vanishing out of my life forever。 None of
them returned。 I was vaguely wondering whether Doctor Z buried
his dead on the premises or had them removed by a secret passageway
in the rear； when a young woman in a nurse's costume tapped me
on the shoulder from behind。
I jumped。 She hid a compassionate smile with her hand and told
me that the doctor would see me now。
As I rose to follow herstill clinging with the drowning man's
grip of desperation to my hat and my umbrellaI was astonished
to note by a glance at the calendar on the wall that this was
still the present date。 I thought it would be Thursday of next
week at the very least。
Doctor Z also wore whiskers； carefully pointed up by an expert
hedge trimmer。 He sat at his desk； surrounded by freewill offerings
from grateful patients and by glass cases containing other things
he had taken away from them when they were not in a condition to
object。 I had expected； after all the preliminary ceremonies and
delays； that we should have a long skance together。 Not so； not
at all。 The modern expert in surgery charges as much for remembering
your name between visits as the family doctor used to expect for
staying up all night with you； but he does not waste any time when
you are in his presence。
I was about to find that out。 And a little later on I was to find
out a lot of other things； in fact； that whole week was of immense
educational value to me。
I presume it was because he stood high in his profession； and was
almost constantly engaged in going into the best society that Doctor
Z did not appear to be the least bit excited over my having picked
him out to look into me。 In the most perfunctory manner he shook
the hand that has shaken the hands of Jess Willard； George M。 Cohan
and Henry Ford； and bade me be seated in a chair which was drawn
up in a strong light； where he might gaze directly at me as we
conversed and so get the full values of the composition。 But if
I was a treat for him to look at he concealed his feelings very
effectually。
He certainly had his emotions under splendid control。 But then；
of course； you must remember that he probably had traveled about
extensively and was used to sight…seeing。
From this point on everything passed off in a most businesslike
manner。 He reached into a filing cabinet and took out an exhibit；
which I recognized as the same one his secretary had filled out
in the early part of the century。 So I was already in the card…index
class。 Then briefly he looked over the manifest that Doctor X had
sent him。 It may not have been a manifestit may have been an
invoice or a bill of lading。 Anyhow I was in the assignee's hands。
I could only hope it would not eventually become necessary to call
in a receiver。 Then he spoke：
〃Yes； yes…yes；〃 he said； 〃yes…yes…yes！ Operation required。 Small
matterhum； hum！ Let's seethis is Tuesday？ Quite so。 Do it
Friday！ Friday at〃he glanced toward a scribbled pad of engagement
dates at his elbow〃Friday at seven A。 M。 No； make it seven…fifteen。
Have important tumor case at seven。 St。 Germicide's Hospital。
You know the placeup on Umpty…umph Street。 Go' day！ Miss Whoziz；
call next visitor。〃
And before I realized that practically the whole affair had been
settled I was outside the consultation…room in a small private
hall； and the secretary was telling me further details would be
conveyed to me by mail。 I went home in a dazed state。 For the
first time I was beginning to learn something about an industry in
which heretofore I had never been interested。 Especially was I
struck by the difference now revealed to me in the preliminary
stages of the surgeons' business as compared with their fellow
experts in the allied cutting tradestailors； for instance； not
to mention barbers。 Every barber； you know； used to be a surgeon；
only he spelled it chirurgeon。 Since then the two professions
have drifted far apart。 Even a half…witted barberthe kind who
always has the first chair as you come into the shopcan easily
spend ten minutes of your time thinking of things he thinks you
should have and mentioning them to you one by one； whereas any
good； live surgeon knows what you have almost instantly。
As for the tailorconsider how wearisome are his methods when
you parallel them alongside the tremendous advances in this direction
made by the surgeonhow cumbersome and old…fashioned and tedious！
Why； an experienced surgeon has you all apart in half the time the
tailor takes up in deciding whether the vest shall fasten with
five buttons or six。 Our own domestic tailors are bad enough in
this regard and the Old World tailors are even worse。
I remember a German tailor in Aix…la…Chapelle in the fall of 1914
who undertook to build for me a suit suitable for visiting the
battle lines informally。 He was the most literary tailor I ever
met anywhere。 He would drape the material over my person and
then take a piece of chalk and write quite a nice long piece on
me。 Then he would rub it out and write it all over again； but
more fully。 He kept this up at intervals of every other day until
he had writer's cramp。 After that he used pins。 He would pin the
seams together； uttering little soothing； clucking sounds in German
whenever a pin went through the goods and into me。 The German
cluck is not so soothing as the cluck of the English…speaking
peoples； I find。
At the end of two long and trying weeks； which wore both of us
down noticeably； he had the job done。 It was not an unqualified
succ