"Sorry, old man, to see you in such a condition last night," says he.
"Bad condition, doctor," says I. "Why, that wasn't a flea bite to the condition I'm in this morning."
"I called upon Rollins this morning," says he, "and I never saw a man in such a complete state of mental depression. He says he was out with you last night. Can't you go around and convince him that his life still holds some future brightness for him?"
"Doctor," says I, "that's impossible. He's drawn his salary three weeks in advance and spent it all last night."
"Do you know," says the doctor, "I had a very remarkable experience last night. A young fellow came to me and said he had swallowed a cent and I made him cough up two dollars."
That doctor has a son that beats anything you ever heard tell of. He has made all his money on apples.
No, he don't grow them. He's a doctor.
It's little green apples I'm talking about now.
When leaving, the doctor told me I must take to automobiling and I would soon get well. I told my wife about it.