"Will you show me your tongue, please?" said the doctor pleasantly. But said Mrs. Gluckstein: "Rubbutch! "Rubbutch!" she repeated. "Vat you vanter see me tongue for? Do I keep me spirits on me tongue, then? I gut low spirits, I tell you, and the indigistions. Vat I vant is a Noirve Tunnuk. Ain’t you gut none?" "I can give you a nerve tonic, of course," assented the doctor. "But don’t you think I’d better go through the form of making sure that you need it?" "But," protested Mrs. Gluckstein, "I _told_ you det I vant id. I gut low spirits. You’re a proper, edugatud, respectable duckter, ain’t you? Can’t you see vat I gut?" "If you could make it convenient," said the doctor, "to discuss your symptoms, I——" "Symptums!" echoed Mrs. Gluckstein. "I ain’d gut no symptums. I gut low spirits. It’s so simple. And I gut the indigistions—shocking! Vat I reely vant is dem Nelson’s Noirve Beans. You know dem, Duckter—vat?" "I have read about them—in the papers. You ’Try one in your teacup,’ don’t you?" "Det’s right, Duckter," assented Mrs. Gluckstein. "Dem Nelson’s Noirve Beans is vat I reely vant. I gut der same exact sickness vat dey make ’em for: low spirits and indigistions. It’s a fine ding dis Nelson’s Noirve Beans: vat, Duckter?" "I don’t think I should place _great_ faith in them if I were you. They’re made to cure so many things at once, you see." "De babers dalks vell about ’em." "They write those talks themselves, you know. The papers get paid for printing them." Mrs. Gluckstein raised a chubby hand and pushed this argument away from her. "I gant ’elp vedder der babers is baid or nut," she said, "dem Nelson’s Noirve Beans is a good medsun. Everybody knows id. "I arst der boy in der chimmis shup ’smornin’, and ’e tole me, ’e seth: ’Ve sells a lut of ’em’, ’e seth. ’E vould ’a’ said more, Duckter, but I don’t believe dey likes to thell ’em you. It ain’d der _good_ dings vat brings yer in der brufit. You notice dat in _your_ business—vat, Duckter?" The doctor looked at his watch. "Then you’d like me to give you a nerve tonic, Mrs. Gluckstein. Very well. We’ll see if we can’t manage to rival Mr. Nelson’s Nerve Beans." Mrs. Gluckstein pushed _this_ statement away with both hands. "You’ll do your best, no doubt, Duckter," she said; "but I dink dem Nelson’s Beans is vat I reely vant. And Mr. Gluckstein (God bless ’im; long life to ’im) ’e dinks ’id too. But dey cust a lut o’ money, Duckter, dem Nelson’s Noirve Beans. A shillin’ a bux I dink it is dey cust. And Mr. Gluckstein (may he walk in blessedness) he is a vise man. "’Shall ve slay the ox’ ’e seth, ’ven der sheep custs not so dear?’ He dinks the same as me det it is good medsun, dis Nelson’s Noirve Beans; ’is own mudder (may she live to be ninety) vas cured from going blind by dem. "But ve seth to vun annudder, ve seth, ’a shillin’ is dear for a medsun.’ So Mr. Gluckstein (may the Lord be friends vid ’im) ’e consulted vid me, saying—-