“Yes,” said the boy, surprised.
“Ah,” said the doctor carelessly; “three or four glasses a day, I suppose?”
Manny thought a moment. “All of that,” he said.
“Well, you quit it,” advised the doctor, “if you want to make the ball team. It will put you off your game worse than tea or coffee. Tell the athletic instructor I said so, will you?”
“Sure!” said the boy. “I didn’t know there was any harm in it.”
As Manny walked away, Dr. Strong turned to
Mr. Clyde. “I found out about Manny by accident. No wonder the boy is nervous. He’s been drinking that stuff like water, with no thought of what’s in it.”
“What is in it?” said Mrs. Clyde.
“Caffeine, generally. The most widely used of the lot is a mixture of fruit syrups doctored up with that drug. There’s as much nerve-excitation in a glass of it—yes, and more—than in a cup of strong coffee. What would you think of a fourteen-year-old boy who drank five cups of strong coffee every day?”
“I’d think his parents were fools,” declared Grandma Sharpless bluntly.