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Show Wasted Time. Little Bobby's father was a doctor and Bobby liked nothing better than to take his father's case in one hand, his overcoat in the other, and go down the street for a block or two to some imaginary patient. One winter's day, when he started out he forgot to close the door. "Bobby," called mother's voice sweetly, "please close the door." But Bobby was in a hurry and went on. "Robert," came father's sterner voice, "close that door." Bobby returned and closed the door. Some time later he came in quietly, put up the case and overcoat and started upstairs. "Bobby," said the mother, ingratiatingly, ingratiat-ingly, "how's your patient?" "Dead," was the laconic answer. "Gone dead while I was shutting that old door." |