Roast Beef, Medium

a. Your surgeon, tossing uneasily on his bed, sees himself cutting to remove an appendix, only to discover that that unpopular portion of his patient's anatomy already bobs in alcoholic glee

es in the clutches of a dreadful dream, it is, strangely enough, never of canceled orders, maniacal train schedules, lumpy mattresses, or vilely cooked food. These everyday

le were wiping their chins and foreheads with bedraggled-looking handkerchiefs, and demanding to know how long this heat was going to last, anyway. On the sixth day she lost all interest in T. A. Buck's Featherloom Petticoats. And then she knew that something was seriously wrong. On the seventh day, when the blonde and nasal waitress approached her in the dining-room of the little hotel at

t little skirt on the market ... he's going to be a son to be pr

me table started to laugh, but the other put out his hand quickly, rose, and said, "Shut up

ught that she was talking nonsense. She made a last effort to order her brain into its usual sane cl

you blamed fool! Can't y

erself that the amazingly and unbelievably handsome young man bending over her with a stethoscope was a doctor; that the plump, bleached blonde in the white shirtwaist was the hotel housekeeper; that the lank ditto was a waitress;

k, young man. Haven't time. Not just now. Put it off until August and I'll be as sic

n't dare remove this thermometer again until I tell you to.

ched the young doctor's impassive face (it takes them no time to

demanded, the

the very young doctor, with a

grippy, or run down, but sick! Trained-nurse sick! Hospital sick! Do

k shelter behind a bristling hedge of Latin

aint and friendly little smile at the group. And at that the housekeeper began tucking in the covers at the foot of the bed, and the lank waitress wal

are all alike. Wire T. A. Buck, Junior, of the Featherloom Petticoat Company, New York. You'll find plenty of clean nightgowns in the left-hand tray of my trunk, covered with white tissue paper. Get a nurse that doesn't sniffle, or talk about the palace she nursed in last, where they treated

, soothingly. "You'll think you're right at home, it

gram may not reach him for three weeks. They're shifting about from camp to camp. Try to get him, but don't scare him too m

mattered not at all to her. For she was sick-doctor-three-times-a-day-trained-nurse-bottles-by-the-bedside sick, her head, with its bright hair rumpled and dry with the fever, tossing from side

air of suspense and repression that lingers about a sick-room at such a crisis began to

? Did they cut

"but we'll hear in a day or so, I'm sure." And, "You

d muster, and asked their wives to call at the hotel and see what they could do. The wives came, obediently, but with suspicion and distrust in their eyes, and remained to pat Emma McChesney's arm, ask to read aloud to her, and to indulge generally in that process known as "cheering her up." Every traveling man who stopped at the little hotel on his way to Minneapolis added to the heaped-up offerings at Emma McChes

set was absent. The blue eyes had lost their brave laughter. A despondent droop lingered in the corners of the mouth that had been such a rare mixture of firmness and tenderness. Even the advent of Fat Ed Meyers, her keenest competitor, and representative of the Strauss Sans-silk Company, failed to

ou feel able," said Miss Haney, the

minute. "Better tell him

rned Miss Haney. "But if

," interrupted Emma

ully tip-toed in, brown derby in hand, his red face properly doleful, brown

e middle of the season? Say, on the square, girlie, I'm dead sorry. Hard luck, by gosh! Young T. A. himself

pe you're not disappointed that they couldn't have been worked i

d a word, now and then, and I will say that you dealt me a couple of low-down tricks on the road, but that's al

You're speaking in the past tense.

d the door. He seemed at a loss to account for something he fa

" he asked, cheerily, sure tha

white face, with its hollow cheeks and closed eyelids to the nurse who sat at the window. That discreet damsel pu

ll little dame in the house named Riordon. She's on the road, too. I don't know what her line is, but she's a friendly kid, with a bunch of talk. A woman always likes to have another woman fussin

ies of staccato raps, with feminine knuckles back of them. The nurse went to the door, disapproval on her face. At the turning of the knob there bounced into the room a vis

do it.' Say, I was laid up two years ago in Idaho Falls, Idaho, and believe me, I'll never forget it. I don't know how sick I was, but I don't even want to re

up. Well, I'll be going. You'll be as good as new in a week, Mrs. McChesney, don

go out. It was her regular hour for exercise. Mr

n. The one I had in Idaho Falls was strictly prophylactic, and antiseptic, and she certainly could give

es

mething grand of you. I'm really jealous. Say, I'd love to show you some of my sa

samples and sample cases. So he had turned out to be his worthless father's son after all! He must have got some ne

ting a little, burst into the

I haven't killed myself before now,

n she leaned forward, interested in spite of herself at sight of the pile of sheer, whi

woman. Let's see the yoke in that first

s of the topmost garment. "Nightgown!" she

" began Emm

unced Miss Rior

esney, and her elbow gave way

st thing. You'll notice they're made up slightly hobble, with a French back, and high waist-line in

erically. "Take them away! Take them away!" An

re still sounding hysterically the door flew open to admit a tall, slim, miraculously well-dressed young man. The next instant Emma McChesney's lace nightgow

then, "Oh, my son, my son, my beau

houlder, and pressing his healthy, glowing ch

They'd been chasing me for days, up there

showed dimples where lines had been, smiles where tears had coursed, a glow where

ou're actually growing a mustache! There's something hard in your left-hand vest pocket

his radiant youth, his glowing freshness, his outdoor tan, his immaculate attire. He looked at the astonished Miss Riordon. At his gaze that

e that lady fled, sample-c

all right. Jock, I didn't realize just what you me

nd slid one arm under his mother's head

ee in front of a darned fool stream and wondering whether to fry

But the line around Jock's jaw did not soften

k, Junior," he said. "He met me at Detroit. I never thought

" Alarm, dismay, astoni

ctly well-bred, cleancut, and most convincing way just what

dare

gument to come back with. I don't know just where he

ck to the bed. Both hands thrust deep in his

r. You've always said that I was to go to college, and I've sort of trained myself to believe I was. Well, I'm not. I want to get into business, with a capital B. And

's bewildered mother, "just what did

a successful business man these days you've got to be a buccaneer, and a diplomat, and a detective, and a clairvoyant, and an expert mathematician, and a wizard. Business-just plain

corner the business market generally?" cam

O'Rourke. He was a star football man at Yale. He's bucking the advertising line now for the Mastodon Magazine.

. Then she gave a happy little laugh, reached for her kimono a

second, son," she announ

ng strength, he picked her up, swathed snugly in a roll of sheeting and light blanket, carried her to

lay with her head against her boy's breast for a while

uberance of his young str

sful business man of to-day the Revolutionary Minute Men were as keen and alert as the Seven Sleepers. I know that there are more non-college men driving street-cars than there are college men. But that doesn't influence me. You could get a job now. Not much of a position, perhaps, but something self-respecting and fairly well-paying. It would teach you many things. You might get a knowledge of human nature that no college could give you. But there's something-poise-self-confidence-assurance-that nothing but college can give you. You will find yourself in th

ou don't unders

in or out of college, and I'd rather, just now, that it would be some pretty, nice-thinking college girl in a white sweater and a blue serge skirt, whose worst thought was wondering if you could be cajoled into taking her to the Freshman-Sophomore basketball game, than some r

money-real money-it's off the road for you," he said, at last. "I

again, will you? And then open the closet door and pull out that big sample-case to the side of my bed. Th