(_Aloud_) The chief symptoms are a steady loss of appetite and a
disinclination to work. I was recommended to consult you by my friend,
Mr. Bolter, as I think I explained in my letter.
_Dr. P._ It's curious how prevalent these symptoms are at the present
moment. I think, if you don't mind, I will begin by taking your
temperature.
[_Produces clinical thermometer and gives it three good
jerks._
_Mr. S._ (_to himself: There--I knew he'd want to put one of those
infernal machines in my mouth. I simply loathe the feeling of them,
and I'm always on the verge of crunching them up. Perhaps I ought to
warn him._) (_Aloud_) I'm afraid I'm not much good as a thermometer
man.
_Dr. P._ Oh, it's a mere trifle. All you've got to do is just to hold
it under your tongue. There--it's in.
_Mr. S._ (_talking with difficulty_). Ish i' in 'e ri' plashe?
_Dr. P._ Yes. But don't try to talk while it's in your mouth. I've had
patients who've bitten it in two. There--that's enough. (_Extracts it
deftly from patient's mouth and examines it._) Hum, hum, yes. A point
below normal. Nothing violently wrong _there_. (_He now performs the
usual rites and mysteries._) I'll make you out a little prescription
which ought to put you all right. And if you can spare a week, and
spend it at Eastbourne, I don't think it will do you any harm.
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