TRANTO. Stand in queues! Mrs. Culver, you make me feel very guilty,
plunging in at a moment's notice and demanding a whole dinner in a
fatless world. I shall eat nothing but dry bread.

MRS. CULVER. We never serve bread at lunch or dinner unless it's
specially asked for. But if soup, macaroni, eggs, and jelly will keep
you alive till breakfast--

HILDEGARDE. But there's beefsteak, mamma--I've told Mr. Tranto.

MRS. CULVER. Only a little, and that's for your father. Beefsteak's the
one thing that keeps off his neuralgia, Mr. Tranto. (_With apologetic
persuasiveness_.) I'm sure you'll understand.

TRANTO. Dear lady, I've never had neuralgia in my life. Macaroni, eggs,
and jelly are my dream. I've always wanted to feel like an invalid.

MRS. CULVER. And how did you get on with your Medical Board this
morning?

TRANTO. How marvellous of you to remember that I had a Medical Board
this morning! I believe I've found out your secret, Mrs. Culver--you're
undergoing a course of Pelman with those sixty generals and forty
admirals. Well, the Medical Board have given me a new complaint. You'll
be sorry to hear that I'm deformed.

MRS. CULVER. Not deformed!

TRANTO. Yes. It appears I'm flat-footed. (_Extending his leg_.) Have I