medical department of an
insurance company across the street.

"Say, lookyhere," Sam protested as they assisted him into the cab,
"this ain't necessary at all!"

"No, I know it isn't," the doctor agreed, in his best imitation of an
old practitioner's jocular manner. He was, in fact, a very young
practitioner and was genuinely alarmed at Samuel's condition, which he
attributed to arteriosclerosis and not to _gefuellte Rinderbrust_. "But,
just the same," he concluded, "it is just as well to keep as quiet as
possible for the present."

Sam nodded and lay back wearily in the leather seat of the taxicab
while it threaded its way through the traffic of lower Fifth Avenue.
Only once did he appear to take an interest in his surroundings, and
that was when the taxicab halted at the end of a long line of traffic
opposite the debris of a new building.

"What's going on here?" he asked faintly.

"It's pretty nearly finished," the doctor replied. "Weldon, Jones &
Company, of Minneapolis, are going to open a New York store."

Sam nodded again and once more closed his eyes. He grew more
uncomfortable as the end of the journey approached, for he dreaded the
reception that awaited him. Max had telephoned the news of his father's
illness to his sister, Miss Babette Gembitz, Sam's only daughter, who
upon her mother's death had assumed not only the duties but the manner
and bearing of that tyrannical person; and Sam knew she would make a
searching investigation of the cause of his ailment.

"Doctor, what do you think is the matter with me?" he asked, by way of
a feeler.

"At your age, it's impossible to say," the doctor replied; "but nothing
very serious."

"No?" Sam said. "Well, you don't think it's indigestion, do you?"

"Decidedly not," the doctor said.

"Well, then, you shouldn't forget and tell my daughter that," Sam
declared as the cab stopped opposite his house, "otherwise she will
swear I am eating something which disagrees with me."

He clambered feebly to the sidewalk, where stood Miss Babette Gembitz
with Dr. Sigmund Eichendorfer.

"_Wie gehts_, Mr. Gembitz?" Doctor Eichendorfer cried cheerfully as he
took Sam's arm.

"_Unpaesslich_, Doctor," Sam replied. "I guess I'm a pretty sick man."

He glanced at his daughter for some trace of tears, but she met his
gaze unmoved.

"You've been making a hog of yourself again, popper!" she said
severely.

"_Oser!_" Sam protested. "Crackers and milk I am eating for my l