"Not a word except business," says I. "And I must say that performance
don't sound much like the boss."

"Ah!" says the old girl, sighin' relieved. "I am glad to hear you say
so. I should not care to have any dealings with him."

She was back in the '70's again, tryin' to look haughty and indignant.
Next minute she was protestin' about her income and announcin' that she
must keep up her Wednesdays.

"Yes'm," says I, backin' out; "I'll tell him."

"Well?" says Tessie, as we gets back to the parlor, "Ain't that some
bug-house proposition? Got an ear-full, didn't you? And to-morrow
we'll-- There's that fool bell again. Oh, it's the doctor. I'll have
to take him up. So long."

She let the young doctor in as she let me out. I was half way down the
block, too, when I turns and walks back. I waits in the tin runabout
until the pill distributer comes out.

"What about the old lady in there?" says I. "Kind of wabbly, ain't
she?"

"Oh, she may last a month more," says he. "Wonderful vitality. And
then again--oh, any time; like that!" and he snaps his fingers.

Maybe I didn't have some details to give Old Hickory.

"It's a case of better days," says I. "Must have been some society