poisoning!"

"Yes, that's true--it is--the ear will have to come off. Guess I'd better
call in old Grandberry to operate--he's an ear specialist--"

"Oh, no, there won't be time! She may die!"

Warble was dancing about in her excitement. "You can do it, Bill."

"All right. Get her up on the pastry table--there--that's all right. Now
we'll take her blood pressure--here, Warb, you be taking her temperature,
and send somebody for my stethoscope, and my case of instruments--and my
X-ray apparatus. Now, my girl, don't cry. We'll fix you up." Petticoat
lighted a cigarette and sat down to take Polly's pulse.

"That's right," he said to the men who brought the things he had sent for,
"scuttle back for my rubber gloves, and the chloroform outfit. Tell my
man and his helpers to come down--I may need them--and bring me a clean
handkerchief."

"Now for an X-ray," he said, a little later, as he adjusted his portable
X-razor.

"Oh, it's all done," said Warble, "While you were taking her plood
bressure, I cut off her ear--"

"What with?"

"Oh, I had a boning knife and the sardine scissors. It's all right. And
I've fixed her hair lovely--in a big curly earmuff, so it will never show