“Dyspepsia.”
“Hypochondria.”
“Chronic inertia.”
“Set it to music,” suggested Dr. Strong, “and sing it as a duet of disease, from ablepsy to zymosis, inclusively. I shall be immensely interested to observe this prodigy of ills.”
“You’ll have plenty of opportunity,” said Mrs. Clyde rather maliciously. “You’re to sit next to her at dinner to-night.”
“Then put Bettykin on the other side of me,” he returned. “With that combination of elf, tyrant, and angel close at hand, I can turn for relief from the grave to the cradle.”
“Indeed you cannot. Louise can’t endure children. She says they get on her nerves. My children!”
“Now you have put the finishing touch to your character sketch,” observed Dr. Strong. “A woman of child-bearing age who can’t endure children—well, she is pretty far awry.”
“Yet I can remember Louise when she was a sweet, attractive young girl,” sighed Mrs. Clyde. “That was before her mother died, and left her to the care of a father too busy making money to do anything for his only child but spend it on her.”
“You’re talking about Lou Ennis, I know,” said Grandma Sharpless, who had entered in time to hear the closing words.