“Now look out of the window,” said he.  “To the left.”

I obeyed at once.  What I saw may not be described.  I shrank back in horror, for I saw so much real suffering that my own trouble grew less in intensity.

“Now look me straight in the eye,” said AEsculapius, an amused smile playing about his lips.

I turned my vision straight upon his glasses and was abashed.  I averted my glance.

“Nonsense,” said he, taking me by the shoulders.  “Look at my pupils—­straight—­don’t be afraid—­there!  That’s it.  These glasses won’t hurt you, and, after all, I’m not very terrible,” he added, genially.

It required an effort, but I made it, although, in so doing, I seemed to be turning my soul inside out for his inspection.

“H’m,” breathed AEsculapius.  “Rather serious.  You think you have appendicitis.”

“Have I?” I cried.

AEsculapius laughed. “Have you?” he asked.  “What do you think you think?”

“I think I have,” said I, my heart growing faint at the very thought I thought I was thinking.

“You are at least sure of your convictions,” said AEsculapius.  “Now, as a matter of fact, the thoughts your thoughtful nature has induced you to think are utterly valueless.  You have a pain in your side?”

“Yes,” said I.  “And a very painful pain in my side—­and I am not putting on any side in my pain either,” I added.

“No doubt,” said AEsculapius.  “But are you sure it is in your side, or isn’t it your chest that aches a trifle, eh?”

“Not much,” said I, growing doubtful on the subject.

“Still it aches,” said he.

“Yes,” I answered, the pain in my side weakening in favor of one in my chest.  “It does.”  And it really did, like the deuce.

“Now about that pain in your chest,” said AEsculapius.  “Isn’t it rather higher up—­in your throat, instead of your chest?”

My throat began to hurt, and abominably.  Every particle of it throbbed with pain, and my chest was immediately relieved.

“I think,” said I, weakly, “that the pain is rather in my throat than in my chest.”

“But your side doesn’t ache at all?” suggested AEsculapius.

I had forgotten my side altogether.

“Not a bit,” said I; and it didn’t.

“So far, so good,” said the doctor.  “Now, my friend, about this throat trouble of yours.  Do you think you have diphtheria, or merely toothache?”

I hadn’t thought of toothache before, but as soon as the doctor mentioned it, a pang went through my lower jaw, and my larynx seemed all right again.

“Well, doctor,” said I, “as a matter of fact, the pain does seem to be in my wisdom teeth.”

“So-called,” said he, quietly.  “More tooth than wisdom, generally.  And not in your throat?” continued the doctor.

[Illustration:  I VISIT AESCULAPIUS]

“Not a bit of it,” said I. My throat seemed strong enough for a political campaign in which I was principal speaker.  “It’s all in my teeth.”