"Ain't there somethin' more, Rusty?" says I. "You know the house is yours."
"Well," says he, after a few puffs, "if this is to be a long wait, a little music would help. There's a piano over in the corner."
I looks at the doc. and shakes my head. He shakes back.
"I used to play a few hymns," says the student.
"Forget 'em, then," says Rusty. "A hymn would finish me, sure. What I'd like is somethin' lively."
"Doc.," says I, "would it hurt?"
"Couldn't," says he. Also he whispers that he'd use chloroform, only Rusty's heart's too bad, and if he wants ragtime to deal it out.
"Wish I could," says I; "but maybe I can find some one who can."
With that I slips out and hunts up Mrs. Twombley-Crane, explainin' the case to her.
"Why, certainly," says she. "Where is Effie? I'll send her in right away."