that homely, unspellable ejaculation.

Mr. Hooper DID return, but not until the Saturday following Christmas
Day. He justified Mr. Bingle's faith in mankind to some extent by
restoring the overcoat and the arctics, but failed to bring back the
ear-muffs and the newspaper. He also failed to account for his own
scanty belongings which he had taken away from the flat wrapped up in
the newspaper. As a matter of fact, he did not feel called upon to
account for anything that had transpired since a quarter before seven
on Christmas morning. He merely walked in upon Mrs. Bingle at noon and
told her to send for Dr. Fiddler at once. Then he got into bed and
shivered so violently that the poor lady quite forgot her intention to
berate him for all the worry and trouble he had caused. She proceeded
at once to dose him with quinine, hot whisky and other notable
remedies while Melissa telephoned for the doctor and Mr. Bingle.

"Don't you think I'd better send for Dr. Smith, on the first floor,
Uncle Joe?" said Mrs. Bingle nervously.

"I want Dr. Fiddler," growled the old man. "I won't have anybody else,
Mary. He's the only doctor in New York. Well, why are you standing
there like a fence-post? Can't you see I'm sick? Can't you see I need
a doctor? Can't--"

"I only thought that perhaps Dr. Smith could do something to relieve
you before Dr. Fiddler arrives. You should not forget that Dr. Fiddler
is a great man and a--a busy one. He may not be able to come at once,
and in that case--"

"He'll come the minute you send for him," argued the sick man. "Didn't