Life — October 30, 1902 — page 14: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

376 machine, He had made that trip many times before, yet had never noticed it. Yet there it was, marred and weather-beate and the figures staring him in the fac figures that said a man five feet four should weigh one hundred and thirty-five pounds. With an eagerness he was secretly ashamed of, he felt for a penny, and looking fur- tively around to see that he was not ob- served, he stepped on the fatal scale. His worst fears were confirmed. The telltale hand moved slowly around and stopped at one hundred and thirty-one. After he got back to his office he called in Jones, his head clerk, and after giving him some instructions said, as indifferently as he could: ‘By the way, Jones, how do I look? Some one told me I didn’t seem altogether well.” Jones scanned his employer's face closely. Jones was a good man, but not one of the advance guard. He argued quite naturally thatif he should tell Von Blumer that he was all right, and then Von Blumer should be sick, that it would be a point against Jones. So he said, quite naturally: “You do look a little thin. Your eyes, perhaps, are not quite so bright as usual. Don't you feel well, sir?” “Not very well,” said Von Blumer. “ Still, I guessit’s nothing. Maybe a cold.” Atthe end of another hour Von Blumer began to wish that he might see Wilderby again. He wanted to ask him some ques- tions, All resentment against that individ- ual had vanished, and gratitude had taken its place. He was now forced to admit it to himself—he was really feeling * off.” And his admiration for Wilderby propor- tionately increased, when he reflected that that individual had been so quick to see what had probably been true all along— that he was below par. At this point Wilderby himself came in. “ After I left you,” be began, “I was thinking about your case "’ (this word was a souvenir of Wilderby's sanitarium experi- ence), ‘‘and I didn’t know but I had need- lessly alarmed you.” “Not at all,” replied Von Blumer. “ But do you know, I believe you are more than half right. I am not up to par.” “Of course you are not. I knew I was right about that. What I wanted to say was, don’t be worried. It may be only a cold coming on. It may be walking typhoid or appendicitis, but whatever it is, modern medical science has reached such a stage that you need have no fear as to the ulti- mate result.” “But it seems absurd to consult a doc- tor.” “You don’t have to—at any rate, not “LIFE just now. your temperature. Get a clinical thermometer and take If it registers over ninety- eight and three-fifths you have a fever. Try it at, say, two o'clock, Tuberculosis, typhoid or appendicitis always show a tise in temperature in the afternoon. But don’t worry, old fellow. It will be all right.” From the time that Wil- derby left him, up to lunch- eon, Von Blumer got rapid- ly worse. At the restau- rant he discovered that he had no appetite. On his — way back he stepped intoa drug store and purchased a clinical thermometer, At two o'clock he bolted the door of his office, determined to make the fatal experi- ment, the result of which he already foresaw. He was a sick man. He knew it. Every bone in his body testified to it. A loss of weight, no appetite, slight chiily feeling—all these but confirmed his worst fears. He put the fatal tube in his mouth and sat, the cold perspiration on his brow, for what seemed an eternity but was really only two minutes, according to the directions. He felt that this would decide the matter. And then, with a wave of desperate cour- age, he glanced at the fatal line of mercury. It was as he suspected. His temperature was one hundred. ° . e AT ten minutes past three Mrs. Von Blumer, looking out of her front window, saw a carriage drive up, and to her astonishment and dismay, she beheld her husband slowly alight. She flew to the door to meet him. His face was flushed. He had all the appearance of a man in distress. “What is the matter, dear?” she ex- claimed. “T guess I'm pretty sick,” replied Von Blumer. ‘Felt it coming on when I got down-town.”” “How do you feel?” “High fever. May be tuberculosis, ap- pendicitis or typhoid.” “Nonsense! " replied Mrs. Von Blumer. “You may have a hard cold or the grip.” Nevertheless, it was plain to her that her husband was really ill, and it was with no little anxiety that she got him into bed and telephoned for Doctor Cuttleton. The doctor came an hour later, and when, after an evidently careful examination, he issued from the sick room, his face was solemn. “‘Won'r YOU COME IN AND MEET MY Wives?” “NOW MANY HAVE You?”* “ONLY THIRTY-NINE. ONE DIED YESTERDAY.” “ WELL, I WOULDN'T MIND MEETING HER.” “Tam afraid,” he said, ‘that an opera- tion may be immediately necessary. These cases of appendicitis are never safe to leave Jong.” “So that’s what it is,” gasped Mrs. Von Blumer. ‘Oh, dear! wouldn't it be well to have a consultation?” “Certainly,” said Doctor Cuttleton. ‘ It is best. I'll telephone for Doctor Tooler.” So Tooler, the eminent specialist, was sent for. In an almost incredibly short time, so swift and sure are our modern medical methods, the two doctors were in conference. What they said is a matter of professional ethics only, and need not be detailed here. Two hours later Von Blumer was put on the operating table. Three hours later his appendix and he had parted company. The next morning he was ‘resting quiet- ly.” In a week he was convalescing. In a month he was up again, a little the worse for his siege, but still a subject for congratu- lations. . ° ° T was about this time that Doctor Cut- tleton and Doctor Tooler met one even- ing at a little social function, and the smoking-room happened to be deserted, thus enabling mutual professional confi- dences to take place. “That was a peculiar case of Von Blumer’s,” said Cuttleton. “Wasn't it?” said Tooler. ‘* Well, he's & good deal better off without that ap- pendix, evenif there wasn't anything wrong comicbooks.com