“No, honey. He's away in the back room busy with another patient. He can't hear.”

Another patient? Why, Tom, you're not sick, are you—huh?”

Fanny's circumflexes were quite as circumflexible as Tom's and a thrill went down the young giant's spine.

“No, but I wish I was!”

At this juncture the man who could not hear came in with a face as grave and non-committal as the Sphinx, and the young man asked through the 'phone in brisk, cheery tones, “How are you this morning?” then added in a whisper, “He's here now.”

“Is he? Don't talk foolish then. Why, I'm not very well.”

“What's the matter?”

“I burned my eye.”

“Burned your eye! Confound it! How did you do it?”

“With a curling iron.”