Olympian Nights by John Kendrick Bangs (ebook reader wifi txt) 📕

suggestion of pain in my right side. I could not make up my mind if it were the six hundred melons or whether a nugget from the omelet had got caught in my vermiform appendix.

At any rate, I didn't wish to eat again just then.

At the door the sedan-chair and the two little blackamoors were awaiting me.

"We have orders to take you to the Zoo, sah," said Sambo.

"All right, Sambo," said I. "I'm all ready. A little air will do me good."

And we moved along.

I forgot to mention that, as he closed the chair door upon me, Memnon handed me back the silver dollar I had given him.

"What is this, Memnon?" said I.

"The dollar you wished me to keep for you, sir," he replied.

"But I intended it for you," said I.

His face flushed.

"I am just as much obliged, sir, but, really, I couldn't, you know. We don't take tips in Olympus, sir."

"Indeed?" said I. "Well--I'm sorry to have offended you, Memnon. I meant it all right. Why didn't you tell me when I gave it you?"

"I should have given you a check for it, sir. I supposed you didn't wish to carry anything so heavy about with you."

"Ah!" said I, replacing the dollar in my pocket. "Thank you for your care of it, Memnon. No offence, I hope?"

"None at all, sir," he replied, again showing his wonderful ivory teeth. "I don't take offence at anything so trifling. Had you handed me a billion dollars, I should have declined to wait on you."

And he bowed me away in a fashion which made me feel keenly the narrowness of my escape.


VII


AEsculapius, M.D.

We had not gone very far along when the pain in my side became poignant and I called out of the window to Sambo:

"Sammy, is there a doctor anywhere on the way out to the Zoo?" I asked.

"Yassir," he replied, slowing down a trifle. "We gotter go right by de doh ob Dr. Skilapius."

"Doctor who?" I asked--the name was new to me.

"'Tain't _Skill_-apius," growled the boy behind, who seemed rather jealous that I had taken no notice of him. "It's Eee-skill-apius."

"Oh," said I, beginning to catch their drift. "Dr. AEsculapius. Is that what you are trying to say?"

"Yassir," said both boys. "Dass de man."

"Well, stop at his office a moment," said I. "I'm feeling a trifle ill."

In a few minutes we drew up before a large door to the right of the corridor before which there hung a shingle marked in large gilt letters:

+-----------------------------------+
| |
| AESCULAPIUS, M.D. |
| |
| Office Hours: 10 to 12. |
| |
| Tuesdays. |
| |
+-----------------------------------+

I knocked at the door and was promptly admitted.

"I wish to see the doctor," said I.

"This is Monday, sir," the maid replied--I couldn't quite place her, but she seemed rather above her station and was stunningly beautiful.

"What of that?" I demanded, as fiercely as I could, considering how pretty the maid was.

"The doctor can only be seen on Tuesdays," said she. "It's on the door."

"But I'm sick," I cried. "Very sick, indeed."

"No doubt," she replied, with a shrug of her shoulders that I found very fetching. "Else you would not have come. But you are not so sick that you can't wait until to-morrow, or if you are, you might as well die, because the doctor won't take a case he can't think over a week."

"Nice arrangement, that," said I, scornfully. "It may do very well for immortals, but for a mortal it's pretty poor business."

The maid's manner underwent an immediate change.

"Excuse me, sir," she said, making me a courtesy. "I did not know you were a mortal. I presumed you were a minor god. The doctor will see you at once."

I was ushered into the consulting-room immediately--in fact, too quickly. I wanted to thank the pretty maid for taking me for an immortal. There was no time for this, however, for in a moment AEsculapius himself appeared.

"You must pardon Alcestis," he said, after the first greetings were over. "She is new to the business and doesn't know a god from a hole in the ground. She presumed you were immortal and did not realize the emergency."

"That's all right, doctor," said I, glad to learn who the entrancing person at the door was. "I've called to see you because--"

"Pray be silent," the doctor interrupted, holding his hand up in admonition. "Let me discover your symptoms for myself. It is the surer method. Physicians in your world are frequently led astray by placing too much reliance upon what their patients tell them. I have devised a new system. _Believe nothing the patient says._ See? If a man tells me he has a headache, I send him to a chiropodist. If his ankle pains him, I send him to an oculist. If he says his chest is oppressed, I have him treated for spinal meningitis; and an alleged pain in the back my assistants cure by placing a mustard plaster on the throat."

"Then your medical principles are based on what, doctor?" I asked, somewhat amused.

"A simple motto which prevails among you mortals: 'All men are liars'--'Omnes homines mendaces sunt.' It is safer than your accepted methods below. A sick man is the last man in the universe to describe his symptoms accurately. The mere fact that he is ill distorts his judgment. Therefore, I never allow it. If I can't find out for myself what is the matter with a patient, I give up the case."

"And the patient dies?" I suggested.

"Not if he is an immortal," he replied, quietly. "Come over here," he added, indicating a spot near the window where there was a strong light. I went, and AEsculapius, taking a pair of eye-glasses from a cabinet in one corner of his apartment, placed them on the bridge of his nose.

"Now look out of the window," said he. "To the left."

I obeyed at once. What I saw may not be described. I shrank back in horror, for I saw so much real suffering that my own trouble grew less in intensity.

"Now look me straight in the eye," said AEsculapius, an amused smile playing about his lips.

I turned my vision straight upon his glasses and was abashed. I averted my glance.

"Nonsense," said he, taking me by the shoulders. "Look at my pupils--straight--don't be afraid--there! That's it. These glasses won't hurt you, and, after all, I'm not very terrible," he added, genially.

It required an effort, but I made it, although, in so doing, I seemed to be turning my soul inside out for his inspection.

"H'm," breathed AEsculapius. "Rather serious. You think you have appendicitis."

"Have I?" I cried.

AEsculapius laughed. "_Have_ you?" he asked. "What do you think you think?"

"I think I have," said I, my heart growing faint at the very thought I thought I was thinking.

"You are at least sure of your convictions," said AEsculapius. "Now, as a matter of fact, the thoughts your thoughtful nature has induced you to think are utterly valueless. You have a pain in your side?"

"Yes," said I. "And a very painful pain in my side--and I am not putting on any side in my pain either," I added.

"No doubt," said AEsculapius. "But are you sure it is in your side, or isn't it your chest that aches a trifle, eh?"

"Not much," said I, growing doubtful on the subject.

"Still it aches," said he.

"Yes," I answered, the pain in my side weakening in favor of one in my chest. "It does." And it really did, like the deuce.

"Now about that pain in your chest," said AEsculapius. "Isn't it rather higher up--in your throat, instead of your chest?"

My throat began to hurt, and abominably. Every particle of it throbbed with pain, and my chest was immediately relieved.

"I think," said I, weakly, "that the pain _is_ rather in my throat than in my chest."

"But your side doesn't ache at all?" suggested AEsculapius.

I had forgotten my side altogether.

"Not a bit," said I; and it didn't.

"So far, so good," said the doctor. "Now, my friend, about this throat trouble of yours. Do you think you have diphtheria, or merely toothache?"

I hadn't thought of toothache before, but as soon as the doctor mentioned it, a pang went through my lower jaw, and my larynx seemed all right again.

"Well, doctor," said I, "as a matter of fact, the pain does seem to be in my wisdom teeth."

"So-called," said he, quietly. "More tooth than wisdom, generally. And not in your throat?" continued the doctor.

"Not a bit of it," said I. My throat seemed strong enough for a political campaign in which I was principal speaker. "It's _all_ in my teeth."

"Upper or lower?" he asked, with a laugh, and then he gazed fixedly at me.

I had not realized that I had upper teeth until he spoke, and a shudder went through me as a semicircle of pain shot through my upper jaw.

"Upper," I retorted, with some surliness.

"Verging a trifle on your cheekbones, and thence to the optic nerve," he said, calmly, still gazing into my soul. "I'll try your sight. Look at that card over there, and tell me--"

"What nonsense is this, doctor?" I cried, angry at his airy manner and manifest control over my symptoms. "There is nothing the matter with my eyes. They're as good as any one of the million eyes of your friend the Argus."

"Then what, in the name of Jupiter, is the matter with you?" he ejaculated, elevating his eyebrows.

"Nothing at all," said I, sulkily.

AEsculapius threw himself on the sofa and roared with laughter.

"Perfectly splendid!" he said, when he had recovered from his mirth. "Perfectly splendid! You are the best example of the value of my system I've had in a long time. Now let me show you something," he added. "Put these glasses on."

He took the glasses from his nose and put them astride of mine, and lead me before a mirror--a cheval-glass arrangement that stood in