'em?" Mrs. Schrimm asked.

"What could I do?" Sam said. "I'm a sick man, Henrietta. Doctor
Eichendorfer says I wouldn't live a year yet."

"Doctor Eichendorfer says that!" Mrs. Schrimm rejoined. "And do you
told me that you are taking Doctor Eichendorfer's word for it?"

"Doctor Eichendorfer is a _Rosher_, I admit," Sam answered; "but he's a
pretty good doctor, Henrietta."

"For the _gesund_, yes," Mrs. Schrimm admitted. "But if my cat would be
sick, Sam, and Doctor Eichendorfer charges two cents a call yet, I
wouldn't have him in my house at all. I got too much respect for my
cat, Sam. With that feller, as soon as he comes into the bedroom he
says the patient is dying; because if the poor feller does die,
understand me, then Eichendorfer is a good prophet, and if he gets
better then Eichendorfer is a good doctor. He always fixes it so he
gets the credit both ways. But you got to acknowledge one thing about
that feller, Sam--he knows how to charge, Sam; and he's a good
collector. Everybody says so."

Sam nodded sadly.

"I give you right about that," he said.

"And, furthermore," Mrs. Schrimm began, "he----"

Mrs. Schrimm proceeded no further, however, for the sound of a saucepan
boiling over brought her suddenly to her feet and she dashed into the
kitchen.

Two minutes later a delicate, familiar odour assailed Sam's nostrils,
and when Mrs. Schrimm returned she found him unconsciously licking his
lips.

"Yes, Sam," she declared, "them _Ungarischer_ girls is worser as nobody
in the kitchen. Pretty near ruins my whole lunch, and I got Mrs.
Krakauer coming, too. You know what a talker that woman is; and if I
would give her something which it is a little burned, y'understand, the
whole of New York hears about it."

"Well, Henrietta," Sam said as he rose and seized his hat, "I must be
going."

"Going!" Mrs. Schrimm cried. "Why, you're only just coming. And
besides, Sam, you are going to stop to lunch, too."

"Lunch!" Sam exclaimed. "Why, I don't eat lunch no more, Henrietta. All
the doctor allows me is crackers and milk."

"Do you mean Doctor Eichendorfer allows you that?" Mrs. Schrimm asked,
and Sam nodded.

"Then all I could say is," she continued, "that you are going to stay
to lunch, because if Doctor Eichendorfer allows a man only crackers and
milk, Sam, that's a sign he could eat _Wienerwurst_, dill pickles, and
_Handkaese_. _Aber_ if Doctor Eichendorfer says you could eat steaks and
chops, stick to