"There's not a thing the matter with either of you except what
can be fixed up in a week. You've got scared to death about
each other, and that's pulled you both down. What you need
more than anything else is to go to a circus - and, by George!
- Since I didn't observe any tents in the darkness as we
drove along, you shall have one come to you. Look here! Did
you know I'd kept up my old athletic stunts these nine years
since I left college?"

He pulled off his coat, waistcoat, collar, shoes, rolled his
shirt-sleeves as high as they would go, and turned a series of
handsprings across the wide room. Then he stood on his head;
he balanced chairs on his chin; he seized his father's hickory
stick and went through a set of military evolutions. Then he
put on his shoes, eyeing his patients with satisfaction. His
mother had lifted her head to watch him, and Miss Mathewson
had tucked an extra pillow under it. His father had drawn
himself up to a half-sitting posture and was regarding his son
with pride.

"I never thought so well of those doings before," he was
saying. "If they've kept you as supple as a willow, in spite
of your weight, I should say you'd better keep 'em up."

"You bet I will! - See here, Aunt Ellen - you used to play the
`Irish Washerwoman: Mind playing it now? Miss Mathewson and I
are going to do a cakewalk."

He glanced, laughing, at his office nurse. She was staring at
him wide-eyed. He threw back his head, showing a splendid