loftily. "Perhaps I could manage a bite or two now."

Whereupon I would demolish everything except the
china and doilies.

It was at this point on the road to recovery, just
halfway between illness and health, that Norah and Max
brought the great and unsmiling Von Gerhard on the scene.
It appeared that even New York was respectfully aware of
Von Gerhard, the nerve specialist, in spite of the fact
that he lived in Milwaukee. The idea of bringing him up
to look at me occurred to Max quite suddenly. I think it
was on the evening that I burst into tears when Max
entered the room wearing a squeaky shoe. The Weeping
Walrus was a self-contained and tranquil creature
compared to me at that time. The sight of a fly on the
wall was enough to make me burst into a passion of sobs.

"I know the boy to steady those shaky nerves of
yours, Dawn," said Max, after I had made a shamefaced
apology for my hysterical weeping, "I'm going to have Von
Gerhard up here to look at you. He can run up Sunday,
eh, Norah?"

"Who's Von Gerhard?" I inquired, out of the depths of
my ignorance. "Anyway, I won't have him. I'll bet he
wears a Vandyke and spectacles."

"Von Gerhard!" exclaimed Norah, indignantly. "You
ought to be thankful to have him look at you, even if he