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Show The Doctor and the Joker As a member of the Owl Club was steering home at 3 A.M., he passed the house of a well known physician. The vestibule was open and the dim rays of the moon disclosed the mouth of an acoustic tube, under which was the inscription, "Whistle for Dt. Potts." Not to be disobliging amount so small a matter as that, the Owl stumbled up the steps, steadied himself against the wall and blew into the pipe with all the strength of his lungs. The physician, awakened by the shrill whistle near his bed, arose and after wondering at the singular odor of whiskey in the room, groped his way to the tube and shouted, "Well?" "Glad to know you're well," was the reply, "but being a doctor I s'pose you can keep well at cost price, can't you?' "What do you want?" said the man of pills, not caring to joke in the airy nothing of his night-shirt. "Say," said the other end of the tube, "are you young Potts or old Potts?" "I am Dr. Potts; there is no young Potts." "Not dead, I hope!" "There never was any. I have no son." "Then you are a young Potts and old Potts, too. Dear, dear, how singular." "Look here," came down from the exasperated M.D., "that's a jolly good joke. Won't you take something?' "What?" said the surprised humorist, pausing for breath. "Why, take something. Put your mouth to the end of the tube and take this." And before the funny man could draw his mouth, a hastily compounded mixture of ink and ipecac squirted from the pipe and deluged him from head to foot. And while he danced frantically around, sponging himself with his handkerchief, and swearing like a pirate in the last act, he could hear a voice from above sweetly murmur: "Good night. Come again, you funny dog." |
