Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 122, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 May 1916 — A BOID RUSE [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A BOID RUSE

By AUGUSTUS SHERWIN.

"Gordon Lee Is certainly something of a bore with his physical ailments,” observed Nate Willoughby. "Yes, a confirmed hypochondriac,” added his pretty sister Verda. "For all that I like the man,” remarked frank, outspoken Olive Borden, who was on a visit to the Willoughbys, her relatives. "Why, you don’t even know him!” exclaimed Verda. "Not in the way of an introduction, that is true,” explained Olive, "but he has been pointed out to me, and yesterday I saw him do something very fine.” “As how?” challenged Nate rather dlsbelievlngly. “I saw him meet a poor wretch who asked him for alms. He gave the man a small coin. Then he watched him. I expect he fancied his pensioner would go in the first saloon. Not so. The man entered a bake shop, came out with a loaf of bread under his arm and hungrily, but eagerly, started on a run, as if hurrying to take the food to others.” “And Mr. Lee?” queried Verda. “Stopped him, pressed a bank note Into his hand. Then, with tears in his eyes, he glanced all about as if

ashamed or afraid someone had noted his charitable act, and went his way." "U-um! Must have had an unusual impulse.” “Why, shame on you, Cousin Varda!” flared out Olive. “I pity the man —born to wealth and idleness. I pity him still more, when 111 health is an added disadvantage.” “11l health!” scoffed Verda. “Why, his megrims are all fancy. Some city doctor told him that a pain he had in one shoulder may ‘symptomize’ a dozen different diseases. He has had nothing else to think of, and, therefore, spends half his time reading medical books, and the balance mourning over his sure slide down the incline of fatal disease!” Olive Borden said no more, but she continued to feel sorry for Gordon Lee. He was good looking, a perfect gentleman, and he seemed so wretched and lonesome that she sympathized with him genuinely. Olive had an uncle, who was living to a good old age, who had wasted the best years of his life, just as Lee was doing. Olive was familiar with the past vagaries of this relative. She did not smile at such idosyncrasies. She pitied their victims, who mentally suffered. A bazaar was given for. the sake of charity in the little village that same week. Of course Olive was impressed into service. She was quick, witty, original, and Verda allowed her to choose her own role. “You are a great hand at fortune telling,” Verda had suggested, but pretty Olive shook her head negatively. “No, no; something newer than that,” she declared. “All you need do for me is to give me a booth. It must have space for thp patient to be seated. Then I will be behind the curtain, with a slit in it large enough only to allow my putting out my hand. I shall see the patient against the light through the thin transparency, but the patient will not see me.” “But the role, Olive?” propounded Verda. “The oriental girl physician, such as they have in China. You know that in that country the doctors are perfect magicians. The patient never sees the doctor, and the doctor makes the most wonderful diagnoses by simply feeling the pulse.” So, behold the sprightly Olive upon the opening evening of the bazaar, stationed behind the curtain, and enough of her unique garb showing to give richness, mystery and orientalism to the presentation. For a dime the benevolent were to “receive medical advice worth a fortune,” and Olive had rare fun for an hour. For a delicate and fastidious girl of her acquaintance she prescribed a diet of coarse food that nearly sent the patient into Olive was f amiliarwlth thegOßSipof the town, and really made a reckless young man grow thoughtful describing some of nis infirmities in a vivid way and advising him to “avoid the wine cup.” To fat Miss Brown she suggested a course of athletics and salt cold baths that made this patient recoil and shud-

dor. Then Olive started and thought, fast and furious. Gordon Lee had been Induced to Invest a dime. He noted how small, soft and dainty was the hand, that there were two dainty dimples and a delightful little mole just at the side of the white, shapely forefinger. He knew not why he noted this, but he did. He looked bored —indeed, half ill. With an expression of ennui on his face, he extended his hand. “You have suffered,” spoke the silvery voice from behind the screen, as the delicate fingers rested across the wrist of the patient, “but needlessly. Your pulse indicates strength, long life, but you have a defect.” "Indeed, yes—you see, my shoulder —■” began Lee, but the fair doctress interrupted him. “It is the pain in your left heel you must look out for,” proceeded Olive, a bold suggestion coming to her mind. "My heel —oh, surely, you are mistaken —” again began Lee, and again he was Interrupted. “The pain once settled there, the distributal influence of the blood currents may convey the toxic elements to the lungs, the heart, the brain. You must walk, you must eat and sleep regularly, you must exercise and occupy your mind pleasantly. In time you may eradicate the little colony of parasites that thrive in your heel. Next patient!” Now, all this sounded very foolish to Olive when she came to think of it later. She told Verda about it, and the latter thought it was a good joke. As to Lee, a strange thing happened. All of a sudden the shoulder pain was transferred to the heel, such is the power of imagination! He began to cuddle a fancied trouble at this new center of disease, just as he had adopted and cherished the old one in the shoulder. At the end of two months he had forgotten all about the shoulder. A doctor to whom he had sheepishly gone with his new affliction laughed at him. “Nonsene with your heel trouble!” he derided. “You’re as sound as a dollar from tip to toe. Someone has hoaxed you into banishing your imaginary shoulder disease and got your attention transferred to your heel. Brace up—you’re cured!” And he was, and began to realize it. And then the story of the fair Chinese medicine maiden came to his ears. He was passing the Willoughby home one day, and lifted his hat to Verda and a girl companion in the family automobile. The latter was Olive Borden. She put out her hand to close the door. Two dimples and a dainty mole near the forefinger! Gordon Lee identified the daring young lady who had started him on the road tft health. “And you laughed at him when he proposed?” said Verda to Olive, two months the jday afterthe jparty_ which they and Lee had attended. "No more than I did at his fancied ailments!” replied Olive readily. “He is very happy—so am I.” (Copyright, 1916, by W. G. Chapman.)

"You Have Suffered.”