“I have had some trouble with my back lately, and I want you to look at it.”
He looked dretful surprised—I spozed he wuzn’t ust to havin’ a complaint so queer and mysterious.
And I rapidly made my preperations, and presented my left shoulder blade for his consideration.
And as I did so, I said anxiously—
“Is it a bile?”
I dreaded his answer. Neuralgy I felt I could face, but a bile seemed dretful if met by me on foreign shores, far from catnip and a quiet home.
Sez he, “I can’t tell what is the matter; if I were in your place I would have a doctor.”
Mekanically, and like sheet lightnin’, I seized the breakfast shawl and drawed its voluminous folds about my figger and faced him.
“Hain’t you a doctor?” sez I.
“No,” sez he; “I am a piano tuner. I thought you wanted me to tune an instrument,” sez he.