As I stood there musing, and thinking that nicotine levels all intellectual distinctions between children, a firm hand was laid on my shoulder and a voice said in my ear:
“Doctor, you have been sleeping in your chair about long enough. Go to bed, you silly fellow!”
I was about to follow my wife’s advice, when—
“Ting-aling-a-ling!” came a ring at the telephone.
I fear I was not very suave as I answered—
“Hello, hello! What’s wanted?”
“Why, the baby’s got the colic to beat the very devil, and I wish you’d come down right away.”
“Get out!” I howled. “You’ll have to get some other doctor. I don’t call on strangers at night,” adding, sotto voce, “nor anybody else, if I can help it.”
“Why, doctor, don’t you know who this is?”
“No, I’ll be hanged if I do. Who the deuce are you, anyhow?”