This was really too much for human nature to endure.
"See here, you scoundrels," cried the doctor, excitedly, "call an attendant or I'll have you both in here for life. I'm the superintendent."
"Come away," said one of the strangers, quickly, "we musn't get the poor devil worked up. He may do himself harm," and they passed on down the corridor.
The doctor spent a morning in that cell, and now he says he has more sympathy for his patients.
He assured me that if I ever took a notion to drop in and see him, he would do all he could to make my stay comfortable.
I wonder what he meant, and if that was a mere formula used to calm each new guest at his hotel.
Long experience has made the doctor quite an artist in that line.
Speaking of artists, there's Craigie, who has a studio on Fifth Avenue. Craigie is a friend of mine.
