DR. CONY--That's bad. You solitary drunkards are always the hardest to handle. But you've simply got to stop. You must quit drinking or die, that's all there is to it. COTTONTAIL--This is terrible. It must have been that poisoned sword. I tell you, I was just sitting here quietly, reading _The Evening Post_-- DR. CONY--My dear sir, please rid yourself right away of the alcoholic's habit of confusing cause and effect. He thinks he's sick because green elephants are walking on him, while, as a matter of fact, green elephants are walking on him because he's sick. It's terribly simple, when you stop to figure it out. COTTONTAIL--You don't think I saw any pink monster come through the ceiling? DR. CONY--On the contrary, I'm sure you did. But the point is, you mustn't see him again, and the only way to avoid seeing him is to quit drinking. Your fun's done. Now, be a good patient and tell me you'll stop drinking-- COTTONTAIL--I tell you I never had any fun. I never had any fun-- DR. CONY--Well, strictly speaking, it isn't the fun that hurts you, it's the rum. You must stop, even if you hate the stuff. Do you understand? COTTONTAIL (_hysterical_)--I can't stop, I can't stop; I never started, I can't stop-- DR. CONY--Very well, sir, I must insist on taking the only measure that will save your life. (_He steps to the door and calls_) Mrs. Cottontail, will you come here immediately? (_Enter Mrs. Cottontail_.) COTTONTAIL--My dear-- DR. CONY--If you please, madame. Let me explain first. You can have it out with your husband later. I'm sorry to tell you, Mrs. Cottontail, that your husband has gout. He has contracted it from excessive drinking. You knew, of course, that he was a heavy drinker? MRS. COTTONTAIL (_surprised, but not in the least incredulous_)--I couldn't go so far as to say I knew it. DR. CONY--He must stop or he'll die. COTTONTAIL (_rapidly and wildly_)--I can explain everything, my dear. The doctor's all wrong. The whole trouble is somebody pulled the roof off the other day and stabbed me with a poisoned sword. I was right here in this room. I was just quietly reading _The Evening Post_. I knew no good would come of our moving into this new apartment house, with its fancy wire and green paint and free food, and all the rest of it. DR. CONY (_to Mrs. Cottontail, who aids him in ignoring the patient_)--You can see for yourself, madame, just how rational he is. I leave him in your care, Mrs. Cottontail. Don't let him out of your sight. Try and find out where he gets his liquor. If he pleads with you for a drink, be firm with him. Follow him everywhere. Make him obey. It won't be hard in his enfeebled condition. I'll be around to-morrow. (_To Cottontail_) Remember, one drink may be fatal. (_Exit Dr. Cony_.) COTTONTAIL--My dear, it was a pink monster, with an enormous dagger. It lifted off the ceiling-- MRS. COTTONTAIL--Peter, can't you even be temperate in your lies?