As I came out of court that day it was only natural that I should run across an old friend, Dr. Case, and hear of more courting. Ah, I thought you'd see it! "Great news about McGregor--he's to be married again." I expressed my surprise, for let me tell you I had already enjoyed the pleasure of an acquaintance with three wives of this same gentleman. "Fourth time--that's going it pretty steep, doctor," I remarked. "It would appear so. Beats all how the rage for collecting will take hold of a man. Sometimes it's old books or playbills, and sometimes it's postage stamps. In McGregor's case it appears to be wives." [Illustration] When I looked in on Bob Lightwate the other day, at his office, expecting him to accompany me to the hospital, where a mutual friend had been taken, I found him clipping an item from a newspaper, which he was very careful to place in his note book. "It tells how a house was robbed, and I want to show it to my wife," he explained. "What good will that do?" I inquired. "A whole lot," was the reply. "You see, this house was robbed while a man was at church with his wife." "B'Gosh!" I exclaimed, excitedly, "you haven't got a duplicate copy of that paper, have you?" Before we could get away Bob had a caller. You see he owns a lot of real estate in the suburbs and his tenants pester the life half out of him on account of trivial troubles. This party was plainly embarrassed, for he kept twirling his hat in his hands. "What can I do for you, Mr. Sorter?" asked Bob. "I came to tell you, sir, that our cellar--" "Well, what about the cellar?" "It's full of water, sir." "Is that all? Humph, I don't see that you've any kick coming, Mr. Sorter. You surely didn't expect a cellar full of champagne for ten dollars a month." The matter was of course satisfactorily adjusted, after Bob had enjoyed his little joke, and we went on our way to the hospital. Now, a hospital isn't the most cheerful place in the world, and yet now and then there is some gleam of humor breaks out there. [Illustration: Appendices removed suddenly while you wait] Human nature is a queer combination, and I've known men who would joke even under the surgeon's knife. When we entered the room where poor Huggins lay, we found that two physicians were beside his cot holding a consultation over him, and that it was suspected he had a severe case of appendicitis concealed about his person. "I believe," said one of the surgeons, "that we should wait and let him get stronger before cutting into him." Before the other prospective operator could reply the patient turned his head, and remarked feebly: "What do you take me for--a cheese?" I rejoice to tell you that this hero survived the operation, and is about again. Lightwate has always been a great lover of the weed, and it is a rare thing to find him without a cigar or a pipe in his mouth. When taken to task he never fails to joke about the matter, and turn the tables on a fellow.