to ye'ersilf: 'Inhuman monsther, to lave me perish here while he chats
with a callous woman that I haven't said annything but What? to f'r
twinty years.'

"Ye begin to think there's a conspiracy against ye to get ye'er money
befure he saunters into th' room an' says in a gay tone: 'Well, what
d'ye mane be tyin' up wan iv th' gr-reat industhrees iv our nation be
stayin' away fr'm wurruk f'r a day?' 'Dock,' says ye in a feeble voice,
'I have a tur'ble pain in me abdumdum. It reaches fr'm here to here,'
makin' a rough sketch iv th' burned disthrict undher th' blanket. 'I
felt it comin' on last night but I didn't say annything f'r fear iv
alarmin' me wife, so I simply groaned,' says ye.

"While ye ar-re describin' ye'er pangs, he walks around th' room lookin'
at th' pictures. Afther ye've got through he comes over an says: 'Lave
me look at ye'er tongue. 'Hum,' he says, holdin' ye'er wrist an' bowin'
through th' window to a frind iv his on a sthreet car. 'Does that
hurt?' he says, stabbin' ye with his thumbs in th' suburbs iv th' pain.
'Ye know it does,' says ye with a groan. 'Don't do that again. Ye
scratched me.' He hurls ye'er wrist back at ye an' stands at th' window
lookin' out at th' firemen acrost th' sthreet playin' dominoes. He says
nawthin' to ye an' ye feel like th' prisoner while th' foreman iv th'
jury is fumblin' in his inside pocket f'r th' verdict. Ye can stand it
no longer. 'Dock,' says he, 'is it annything fatal? I'm not fit to die
but tell me th' worst an' I will thry to bear it. 'Well,' says he, 'ye
have a slight interioritis iv th' semi-colon. But this purscription
ought to fix ye up all right. Ye'd betther take it over to th' dhrug
sthore an' have it filled ye'ersilf. In th' manetime I'd advise ye to be
careful iv ye'er dite. I wudden't ate annything with glass or a large
percintage iv plasther iv Paris in it.' An' he goes away to write his