Fancies and Goodnights, стр. 51
Soon he set up a pipe: «Birdie! Birdie!»
At his call the nurse came hurrying in. «Why, honey-boy,» said she, «where's your worthless nephew gone?»
«He has just slipped out for a stroll around the old place,» croaked our hero. «Moreover, I don't think you should call him worthless. No, I have misjudged that young man, and I want you to send for the lawyer, so that I can do him justice in my will.»
«Why, Daddy?» cried the nurse. «What's made this change in you?»
«Change?» said the nephew hastily. «There's no change in me, my dear, except perhaps I feel my latter end approaching. Otherwise I am just the same.» And to reassure her on this point, he gave her a friendly little caress, exactly as his uncle had done. She emitted an hilarious squeal and went giggling on her errand.
The nephew lay at his ease, waiting only for the arrival of the lawyer. «I shall dictate a new will,» thought he, «and sign it before the very eyes of the lawyer, in a shaky imitation of the old man's crabbed hand. I shall then express a desire to be left alone for a short nap, replace my poor uncle in the bed, put on my clothes, put back my teeth, and step out of the window, to march in at the front door as if newly returned from my walk. What bucketfuls of tears I shall shed, when we discover that the poor old boy has passed peacefully away!»
Pretty soon there was a heavy footstep on the porch, and a large and rough-hewn individual strode into the room, bearing a sizable black bag.
«I am glad you have come,» said our hero. «I am eager to make out a new will. I wish to leave everything to my nephew.»
«My dear old friend,» replied the newcomer, «I fear your malady has reached the brain. Who would have thought my old pal could have mistaken me for the lawyer? You must let me make a brief examination.» With that, he pulled down the sheet, and began to probe the nephew with a hard and horny ringer. The nephew realized too late that this was no lawyer, but the horse 'n' buggy doc himself, and he uttered a hollow groan.
«I feared as much,» said the Doctor. «There is something very wrong somewhere in here. I must act at once if you are to recover your reason.» As he spoke, he turned the nephew over in the bed, and whisked out a monster hypodermic from his black bag. «Fortunately,» said he, «I am always ready for emergencies.»
Our hero tried to protest, but he hardly knew what to say, fearing that his uncle would be discovered under the bed, and the circumstance would tend to his prejudice. The Doctor, all in a moment, injected a pint of icy fluid into the small of his back, which numbed his whole middle, and paralyzed all his faculties, except that of rolling the eyes, which he indulged to the point of excess.
«I am only an old, rough, goldarn horse 'n' buggy doc,» observed the Doctor, «but I keep abreast of the times. Mental derangement is often caused by abdominal derangement. If you will get out my instruments, nurse, I think we shall soon find the source of the trouble.»
In a moment the unfortunate nephew was laid open under his own eyes, which he never ceased to roll. The Doctor, unpacking him like a Gladstone bag, kept up a running commentary. «Take this,» said he to the nurse, «and put it on the washstand. Put these on the chair. Don't get them mixed up, or I shall have the devil of a job getting them back again. It is a pity that nephew is not back; it is more ethical to have the consent of a relative before operating. I see nothing wrong with this pancreas, considering the age of the patient. Put it on the chest of drawers. Hang these over the bed-rail».
«Hold the light a little closer,» he continued. «I still have not found the cause of his madness. Don't let the candle drip; that is hardly hygienic. Anyway, he is certainly mad, or he would not think of leaving his money to that scallawag of a nephew. It is as well you let me know, my dear, instead of bothering the lawyer. When this is all over, we must take a little trip together.»
Saying this, he gave the nurse a caress, similar to that which both uncle and nephew had bestowed on her. The sight of this caress not only shocked our hero, but depressed him beyond description, and lowered his powers of resistance. «It is most unprofessional,» thought he, «and, what's even worse, it smacks abominably of conspiracy.» This thought caused him to roll his eyes for the last time, and the next moment he was a goner.
«Dear me,» said the Doctor, «I fear I have lost my patient. Sometimes I quite envy the city doctor, with his well-appointed operating theatre. However, their biographies usually sell very poorly, and, after all, I did my best for the old boy, and he has remembered me in his will. Had he lived, he might have altered it. What an extraordinary trick of fate! Pass me over the various organs, my dear, and I will put them roughly into position, for I expect the nephew will be back very shortly, and he would hate to see them lying around.»
COLLABORATION
There was a certain Ambrose, who was proud of his superior profile and his superior taste. His wife was supposed to be a testimony to both. She was a honey blonde with a wide mouth and a bewitching eye, better than a bowl of strawberries and cream, but she was too simple to be fit for any but an adoring role, and this was what he assigned to her. He managed, however, to teach her to demand sherry, and sneer at cocktails, and sometimes she wondered if she was sighing for a Manhattan.
They had a little house on Long Island, and another in the South of France. On one occasion he was opening his letters: «All is well,» said he. «We shall set off for Provence next month. We shall see our dear house, our terrace, our garden, all in perfect taste, all designed by me. I shall take you with our little Movie-ola, and you,» said he, throwing back his wavy hair, «will take me.»
«Yes, my dear,» said she.
«If only,» said he, «we had a couple of ideal children, the image of their father. They could be taken running to meet me. We could take them here on Long Island and show them to our friends in Provence, and we could take them in Provence, and show them to our friends on Long Island. I can't understand why you don't have a couple of ideal children. You know I wish it.»
«I gave up cocktails because you wished it,» said she. «And now I drink sherry.»
He put his fine hand to his brow. «I talk of ideal children,» he moaned, «and you reply with an idiotic irrelevancy about cocktails. Leave me. You jar. I will open my letters alone.»
She obediently withdrew, but soon a bitter cry brought her scurrying back again. «Oh, my dear, what in the world is it?» cried she. «Whatever is the matter?»
«Read that,» said he, handing her a letter. «Don't talk to me about cocktails. Read that.»
«What is this?» she cried. «Your money gone!»
«I tried to double it,» said he. «I thought it would be nice. This comes of being an artist, a dreamer. Spare me your reproaches.»
«We have each other,» said she, allowing a large, booby tear to trickle down her cheek, as women often do when they seek comfort in this particular reflection.
«Yes,» said he. «And may take films of each other in the breadline, and show them to our friends. You may be taken so if you wish. I have my pride.»
«But I have my jewels,» said she. «We can live on them while you write that book you have always been talking of.»
«Always been talking of?» said he. «I hardly know what you mean. Still, a great many fools write books, and sell a hundred thousand copies. What would be the royalty on five hundred thousand? Put a heap of high-grade paper in my study. Tell everyone I am not to be disturbed. If only we had a couple of ideal children, you could keep them quiet while I was at work. You could tell them what their daddy was doing.»