Minister—At twelve, my usual hour. I see no reason for lying in bed, Doctor. (There was a despairing tone in this phrase). I am well enough, Doctor, well enough. (Here he gazed sadly out of the window into St. James’s Park). I am a Minister, but I cannot minister to a mind diseased (this rather bitterly). There is nothing the matter with me.
Doctor (cheerily)—My dear Mr. ——, do not talk so. You will be spared many, many useful years, I hope. Indeed, I am sure. There is, as you say, nothing the matter—nothing organically the matter; this lassitude and nervous exhaustion from which you suffer is a distressing, but a common symptom of mental activity. (Here the doctor dived into a black bag). Let me sound the chest.
Minister—Will it hurt? (This was said rather anxiously).
Doctor—Not a bit of it. I only wish to make assurance doubly sure—as we say in the profession. (He put the stethoscope to the chest of the Cabinet Minister). Now, draw a deep breath ... no, deeper than that ... a really deep breath.
Minister (gasping)—I can’t.
Doctor—Tut, tut.... Well, it’s all a question of lungs. (Here he moved the stethoscope again). Now sing.
Minister—La! La!... La!
Doctor—Nothing wrong with the lungs. Only a little feeble perhaps. Do you take any exercise?
Minister (wearily)—Oh! yes ... I walk about.... I used to walk a lot in Ireland.... I’m not like Ch——n; he never takes any exercise (bitterly); but then, he was brought up differently. (Sadly) Oh Doctor! I am so tired!... My back aches.
Doctor—Well, Mr. ——, a little rest will do you all the good in the world. You have the Easter recess in which to take a thorough rest. Do not lie in bed all day; get up about five and drive to your club. Whatever you do, don’t write or think, and don’t let them worry you with callers. (The Doctor here prepared to leave).