"What did that —— red-headed hyena say to you? What did he say? What did he say? Tell me; tell me, quick! What did he say? I must know—I must know."
"Oh, nothing much, Doctor."
"I demand to know immediately. Tell me—tell me now."
"Well, Doctor, he says you have fits."
"Fits? fits? What! I have fits? Gracious Heavens! What—when—how—where is he? Where is the infernal red-headed liar? Bring him to me and let me paralyze him."
While saying this he was plunging and spinning around in his usual jumping-jack manner, swinging his cane in one hand and slamming his plug hat on the floor with the other.
The floor-manager stepped up and asked what the matter was. The Doctor shrieked out:
"Good ——! do I look like a man who has fits? Would you think, to look at me, that I ever had fits?"
The floor-manager placed his hands on his shoulders, and said, sympathetically: