One of the ladies who first introduced interpretative dancing--whatever
that is--into this country has fleshened up considerably since the days
of her initial terpsichorean triumphs among the society folk along the
eastern sea-board. Nevertheless, she continues to give performances to
select audiences of artistic souls.
Not long ago Finley Peter Dunne, the humorist, was lured to one of these
entertainments. The lady, wearing very few clothes, and, as a result of
their lack, looking even plumper than usual, danced in an effect of
moonlight calcium beams.
As Dunne was leaving, one of the patronesses hailed him.
"Oh, Mr. Dunne," she twittered, "how did you enjoy the madame's
dancing?"
"Immensely," said Dunne. "Made me think of Grant's Tomb in love."
"NEXT!"
The wonders of modern science never cease to be of absorbing interest
and even the following story, which is supposed to take place in the
near future, may be more realistic than we now think possible, although
it is rather hard on our good friends the doctors.
"Be seated, sir," said the distinguished practitioner.
The man who had entered the doctor's office a few moments before in
obedience to the invitation sank into a luxurious chair. The doctor
looked at him casually, and, touching an indicator at the side of his
desk, said:
"What a pleasant day."
"Yes, it is."
A nurse appeared at the door.
"Turn on number nine hundred and eleven," said the doctor.
"Very well, sir."
The doctor turned to the patient.
"I heard a most amusing story the other day," he said.
"But--"
"Just a moment. I am quite sure you will be interested in hearing it,"
He told the story.
The patient stirred impatiently in the chair, although the story was
amusing and he laughed at it.
"By the way," he began, looking at his watch.
The doctor got up. He turned off the switch at his desk.
"It is all right, sir. You may go now."
"But I came in to see you about--"
"Yes, the operation has been performed. I should be a little bit careful
for a few days if I were you. Don't play golf or walk excessively."
"You mean to say that--"
"Your appendix has been removed in accordance with your symptoms."
The patient smiled incredulously.
"When did you do it?" he asked.
"While you were sitting there. Perfectly simple. It was absorbed."
"How did you know what was the matter with me?"
"That chair sends a record of your symptoms--in fact, diagnoses your
case completely--to the laboratory. All you needed was to have your
appendix removed, and by turning on number nine hundred and eleven it
was absorbed in three minutes. Nothing strange, sir. Quite usual, I
assure you."
The man got up. His face grew rather pale. He advanced to the desk.
"How much do I owe you?" he asked.
The doctor smiled again.
"That has all been arranged, sir."
"What do you mean?"
"According to the new State law which has just gone into effect, while
you were being operated on your property was transferred to me. Good
morning, sir. Call again."