Christopher Hembold had a mania for experimenting.
He had tried everything from hypnotism to electricity, when the “X” ray was first talked about. He could think or talk of nothing else; he perused every magazine and paper with greedy avidity in search of articles concerning it.
“Christopher, do put that paper down and eat your breakfast,” said his wife.
Mrs. Hembold was a nervous little woman, and it annoyed her to hear the newspaper rattle, and she disliked to have it held so as to hide her Christopher from view.
“But, Maria, just listen, here’s more about that wonderful discovery—” he exclaimed excitedly.
“Christopher Hembold! Eat your breakfast! I care much more that the steak and coffee are getting cold than I do for that nonsense.”
“You have no sympathy, Maria; the mysteries of science are beyond your appreciation!” he exclaimed, as he folded the paper in dignified displeasure.
“Appreciate fiddlesticks!” angrily retorted Maria, stirring her coffee vigorously.
Said Christopher, the next morning at the breakfast table:
“Maria, I am going to Abbeyville on business, and shall in all probability be detained a month.”