For instance, on Wednesday
morning if it had not been for the surgical skill of our friend here,
our good landlady could never have managed properly to distribute the
late autumn chicken we found upon the menu. Tally one for the
affirmative. On the other hand, I must confess to considerable loss of
appetite when I see the Doctor rolling his bread up into little pills,
or measuring the vinegar he puts on his salad by means of a glass
dropper, and taking the temperature of his coffee with his pocket
thermometer. Nor do I like--and I should not have mentioned it save by
way of illustrating my position in regard to Mr. Whitechoker's
assertion--nor do I like the cold, eager glitter in the Doctor's eyes as
he watches me consuming, with some difficulty, I admit, the cold pastry
we have served up to us on Saturday mornings under the wholly
transparent _alias_ of 'Hot Bread.' I may have very bad taste, but, in
my humble opinion, the man who talks shop is preferable to the one who
suggests it in his eyes. Some more iced potatoes, Mary," he added,
calmly.
[Illustration: "'READING WEBSTER'S DICTIONARY'"]
"Madame," said the Doctor, turning angrily to the landlady, "this is
insufferable. You may make out my bill this morning. I shall have to
seek a home elsewhere."
"Oh, now, Doctor!" began the landlady, in her most pleading tone.
"Jove!" ejaculated the Idiot. "That's a good idea, Doctor. I think I'll
go with you; I'm not altogether satisfied here myself, but to desert so
charming a company as we have here had never occurred to me.
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