"Have you been seen going into any doctor's office lately?" asked Mrs. Cane apprehensively.
"Why, yes; I've been going to Dr. Richards' office frequently."
Sube sighed and took up the disposal of his neglected food as his father continued.
"We've been preparing for the defense of that case of Munger against the railroad company. You know Munger is trying to prove that his injuries are of a permanent nature, and we are perfectly certain that he is malingering. I'm in there once or twice every day to consult the doctor's books. We are preparing a long hypothetical question—"
"What a town this is for talk!" exclaimed Mrs. Cane. "That's undoubtedly where the report started."
"There or in the barber shop."
"Yes, that barber shop is a regular clearing house for news!" said Mrs. Cane.
"Yes, it's as good as an afternoon card party," agreed her husband. "And," he added after a moment, "I'm going to have the place investigated this afternoon."
At this point something went wrong with Sube's throat. He began to choke and snort most distressfully, and several severe thumps on the back from Cathead were required to restore him to normal condition.
"Yes," Mr. Cane resumed, "I'm going to smoke that barber out. Why, the good-for-nothing ignoramus as much as informed me that I was mentally unsound! Asking me the day of the week and month! That's what they always ask an alleged incompetent person who is being examined as to his sanity! The idea of that know-nothing presuming to ask me such questions as that!"