"
All this yelled in the faces of the entire Biff-Bang company. It was
more inhuman and debasing than my first physical examination in
public. The doctors on this occasion, although they had not
complimented me, had at least been comparatively impersonal in
despatching their offices, but these men were far from being
impersonal. I perceived with horror that it was their intention to use
my chest as a means of bringing humor into their drab existences. Tony
came and surveyed me critically.
"That," he drawled musically, "ees not a chest. That ees the bottom
part of hees neck."
"I know it is," replied the other, "but somehow his arms have gotten
mixed up in the middle of it."
Tony shrugged his shoulders eloquently. He assumed the appearance of a
man completely baffled.
"Honestly, now, young feller," continued my first tormentor, "are you
serious when you try to tell us that that is your chest?"
He drew attention to the highly disputed territory by poking me
diligently with his thumb.
"That's the part the doctor always listened to whenever I had a cold,"
I replied as indifferently as possible. The man pondered over this for
a moment.
"Well," he replied at length, "probably the doctor was right, but to
the impartial observer it would seem to be, as my friend Tony so
accurately observed, the bottom part of your neck.
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