liven up and how eagerly all present join in. The lady on your
left feels that you should know she always takes two lumps of sugar
and nearly half cream, because she simply cannot abide hot milk,
no matter what the doctors say. The gentleman on your right will
be moved to confess he likes his eggs boiled for exactly three
minutes, no more and no less. Buckwheat cakes and sausage find a
champion and oatmeal rarely lacks a warm defender.

But after all, when all is said and done, the king of all topics
is operations. Sooner or later, wherever two or more are gathered
together it is reasonably certain that somebody will bring up an
operation.

Until I passed through the experience of being operated on myself,
I never really realized what a precious conversational boon the
subject is, and how great a part it plays in our intercourse with
our fellow beings on this planet. To the teller it is enormously
interesting, for he is not only the hero of the tale but the rest
of the cast and the stage setting as well--the whole show, as they
say; and if the listener has had a similar experience--and who is
there among us in these days that has not taken a nap 'neath the
shade of the old ether cone?--it acquires a doubled value.

"Speaking of operations--" you say, just like that, even though
nobody present has spoken of them; and then you are off, with your
new acquaintance sitting on the edge of his chair, or hers as the
case may be and so frequently is, with hands clutched in polite
but painful restraint, gills working up and down with impatience,
eyes brightened with desire, tongue hung in the middle, waiting for
you to pause to catch your breath, so that he or she may break in