an omelet without eggs!"

"Hamlet without ham," somebody said.

"We're doing the best we can," Mr. Pierce explained. "We--we expect a
doctor to-day."

"When?" from Mr. Jennings, who had come on a cane and was watching Mr.
Pierce like a hawk.

"This afternoon, probably. As there is no one here very ill--"

But at that they almost fell on him and tore him to pieces. I had to
step in front of him myself and say we'd have somebody there by two
o'clock if we had to rob a hospital to get him. And Mr. Sam cried,
"Three cheers for Minnie, the beautiful spring-house girl!" and led off.

There's no doubt about it--a man ought to be born to the sanatorium
business. A real strong and healthy man has no business trying to run
a health resort, and I saw Mr. Pierce wasn't making the hit that I'd
expected him to.

He was too healthy. You only needed to look at him to know that he took
a cold plunge every morning, and liked to walk ten miles a day, and
could digest anything and go to sleep the minute his head touched the
pillow. And he had no tact. When Mrs. Biggs went to him and explained
that the vacuum cleaner must not be used in her room--that it exhausted
the air or something, and she could hardly breathe after it--he only
looked bewildered and then drew a diagram to show her it was impossible
that it could exhaust the air. The old doctor knew how: he'd have