The fact that Mr. Carmody was by several degrees the most unhappy-looking member of this little band of martyrs was due to his distress, unlike that of his fellow-sufferers, being mental as well as physical. He was allowing his mind, for the hundredth time, to dwell on the paralyzing cost of these hygienic proceedings. Thirty guineas a week, thought Mr. Carmody as he bounded up and down. Four pound ten a day.... Three shillings and ninepence an hour.... Three solid farthings a minute.... To meditate on these figures was like turning a sword in his heart. For Lester Carmody loved money as he loved nothing else in this world except a good dinner. Doctor Twist turned from the window. A maid had appeared bearing a card on a salver. "Show him in," said Doctor Twist, having examined this. And presently there entered a lissom young man in a gray flannel suit. "Doctor Twist?" "Yes, sir." The newcomer seemed a little surprised. It was as if he had been expecting something rather more impressive, and was wondering why, if the proprietor of Healthward Ho had the ability which he claimed, to make New Men for Old, he had not taken the opportunity of effecting some alterations in himself. For Doctor Twist was a small man, and weedy. He had a snub nose and an expression of furtive slyness. And he wore a waxed moustache. However, all this was not the visitor's business. If a man wishes to wax his moustache, it is a matter between himself and his God. "My name's Carmody," he said. "Hugo Carmody." "Yes. I got your card." "Could I have a word with my uncle?" "Sure, if you don't mind waiting a minute. Right now," explained Doctor Twist, with a gesture toward the window, "he's occupied." Hugo moved to the window, looked out, and started violently. "Great Scott!" he exclaimed. He gaped down at the group below. Mr. Carmody and colleagues had now discarded the skipping ropes and were performing some unpleasant-looking bending and stretching exercises, holding their hands above their heads and swinging painfully from what one may loosely term their waists. It was a spectacle well calculated to astonish any nephew. "How long has he got to go on like that?" asked Hugo, awed. Doctor Twist looked at his watch. "They'll be quitting soon now. Then a cold shower and rub down, and they'll be through till lunch." "Cold shower?" "Yes." "You mean to say you make my uncle Lester take cold shower baths?" "That's right." "Good God!" A look of respect came into Hugo's face as he gazed upon this master of men. Anybody who, in addition to making him tie himself in knots under a blazing sun, could lure Uncle Lester within ten yards of a cold shower bath was entitled to credit. "I suppose after all this," he said, "they do themselves pretty well at lunch?" "They have a lean mutton chop apiece, with green vegetables and dry toast." "Is that all?" "That's all." "And to drink?" "Just water." "Followed, of course, by a spot of port?" "No, sir." "No port?"