_Mr. S._ (_thinking to himself: Ought I to call this Johnnie "Doctor," or not? I'm told they're very particular about a thing like that. Like a fool, I never gave it a thought. Still, I can't go so very far wrong if I call him "Doctor." Besides, he's got to be called "Doctor" whether he likes it or not. Here goes._) (_Aloud_) Good morning, Dr. Pillwell. I've been troubled with some symptoms which I can't quite make out. I think I described them in my letter. (_To himself: They made several doctors Knights of the British Empire, and I'm almost certain Pillwell was one of them. Sir John Pillwell. Yes, it sounds all right; but I shan't call him "Sir John" because if he isn't a knight he might think I was trying to make fun of him and then he might retaliate by calling me "Sir Henry," and I should hate that_). (_Aloud_) The chief symptoms are a steady loss of appetite and a disinclination to work. I was recommended to consult you by my friend, Mr. Bolter, as I think I explained in my letter. _Dr. P._ It's curious how prevalent these symptoms are at the present moment. I think, if you don't mind, I will begin by taking your temperature. [_Produces clinical thermometer and gives it three good jerks._ _Mr. S._ (_to himself: There--I knew he'd want to put one of those infernal machines in my mouth. I simply loathe the feeling of them, and I'm always on the verge of crunching them up. Perhaps I ought to warn him._) (_Aloud_) I'm afraid I'm not much good as a thermometer man. _Dr. P._ Oh, it's a mere trifle. All you've got to do is just to hold it under your tongue. There--it's in. _Mr. S._ (_talking with difficulty_). Ish i' in 'e ri' plashe? _Dr. P._ Yes. But don't try to talk while it's in your mouth. I've had patients who've bitten it in two. There--that's enough. (_Extracts it deftly from patient's mouth and examines it._) Hum, hum, yes. A point below normal. Nothing violently wrong _there_. (_He now performs the usual rites and mysteries._) I'll make you out a little prescription which ought to put you all right. And if you can spare a week, and spend it at Eastbourne, I don't think it will do you any harm. _Mr. S._ (_To himself: I like this man. He doesn't waste any time. It's a curious coincidence that I should have been thinking this very morning of arranging a visit to the seaside. Now of course I've absolutely got to go. Can't disobey my new doctor, and wouldn't if I could. By Jove, I'd all but forgotten about the two guineas fee. Yes, the cheque's in my breast-pocket. Two guineas for the first visit. The rule is not to give it too openly, but to slip it on to a desk or table as if you were half ashamed of it. Where shall I put it so as to make sure he spots it out of the corner of his eye? Ha! on the blotting-pad, which I can just reach. Does it with his left hand, and feels a man once more._) _Dr. P._ And here's your prescription.