"Bully for the codger!" quoth all the red-cheeked.

"We will cut off his curls and make him as healthy as those young
ones," said Lockwin.

"You'll never do it!" said the housekeeper.

"Such as him do be too pretty for this life," said the cook, almost
with tears in her eyes.

And just at this epoch of new hygiene Davy's eyes grew sore. "Take him
to a specialist," said Dr. Tarpion.

The specialist made the eyes a little worse.

"Them's just such eyes as Dr. Floddin cured on my sister," said the
peddling huckster's son at the kitchen door.

The housekeeper could say as much for a relative whom the cheap
druggist had served.

"Can you cure my boy?" was Lockwin's question to Dr. Floddin.

"I think so," said the good man. He was gratified to be called to the
relief of a person of so much consequence. Thereupon began a patient
treatment of Davy's tonsils, his nose, and his eyes. As if Dr. Floddin
knew all things, he foretold the day when the boy would reappear in his
own countenance.

"Bless your little soul," the housekeeper would say, "I can't for the