When the doctor had completed his record of all I knew, and also had pommeled me until his solemn visage betokened some momentous conclusion--which he guarded with profound secrecy--his air of mute sobriety was in nowise reassuring. He put the stethoscope to my heart, then shifted it to the left kidney and asked me to breathe deeply--perhaps to see if the two organs were beating in unison. But he shook his head negatively, which I took to mean that something was wrong with one or the other. “Nothing serious, I hope,” said I, studying his inscrutable face for some hopeful token. For a few moments he seemed lost in meditation, which set me to wondering if he had found something he didn’t dare tell me about. Then without answering, he wrote out and handed me the following prescription: “Four ounces of castor oil and loganberry juice, no supper, to bed at seven o’clock, up at seven A. M., no breakfast, report at desk XY-4 at 7:30 tomorrow.” I suggested that four ounces was rather a generous dose, but he said the conditions warranted it, so I didn’t argue the matter with him. He also gave me several envelopes of assorted colors, directing me to various appointment desks, and informed me with great impressiveness that they contained orders for examinations. Incidentally he told me that when I had finished with these I might go to breakfast, then report back to him. My first appointment next morning was for an X-ray of the offending kidney, and having finished with this I set out to dispose of the other four envelopes, curiously anxious to learn what the examinations would disclose--heart disease, kidney-stones, gall-stones, cancer or what. It must be something terrible, I thought; otherwise the doctor would not have shown such deep and mystified concern. It is remarkable how one’s imagination can run wild when the physical machinery is upset by some puzzling ailment. One fear begets another and, like bacteria, they multiply, until it becomes possible to alarm one’s self into almost any sort of malady. For example, while at the outset I was satisfied that my only trouble was seated in the left kidney, during the course of the next few days, owing to the variety and severity of the examinations, and the utter lack of information concerning the results of any of them, I fancied myself the victim of no less than half a dozen diseases, most of them fatal. At the next desk, there being at least fifty people ahead of me, I told the young lady I’d call later. At this point I began to feel a little encouraged, because whatever I had, it seemed to be very prevalent, and the afflicted ones didn’t appear to be much disturbed, except one poor old fellow, who was badly doubled up with what I suspected to be a case of “gravel” pains such as I had often experienced. I asked him if he had kidney trouble. “No,” he said; “it’s just a nasty hang-over from a castor oil jag last night.”