"That's the idea, Doc."

"When you lie on your right side do you have an impulse to turn
over on your left side, and when you turn over on your left side do
you feel an impulse to jump out of bed and throw stones at a
policeman?"

"There isn't anything you can mention, Doc, that I haven't got!"

"Ah!" said the doctor; "then that settles it."

"Tell me the truth, Doctor!" I groaned; "what is it, bubonic
plague?"

"You have something worse--you have the grip," he whispered gently.
"You see I tried hard to mention some symptom which you didn't
have, but you had them all, and the grip is the only disease in the
world which makes a specialty of having every symptom known to
medical jurisprudence."

Then the doctor got busy with the pencil gag and left me enough
prescriptions to keep the druggist in pocket money throughout the
summer.

[Illustration: Enough prescriptions to keep the druggist in pocket
money throughout the summer.]

Later my wife came in and asked me how I felt, and when I began to
discourse amiably about undertakers she put up a howl that brought