About This Book
Dr. Glasby looked over the rims of his spectacles at the boy before him. Then he glanced at Mr. Anderson, cleared his throat with a loud "ahem" that made Roger start, and said, very ponderously: "Um " "Well?" asked Mr. Anderson, a little anxious tone coming into his voice, "what's the verdict, doctor?" "Um " said the physician again. "Nothing very serious, Mr. Anderson. Roger, here, is a little run down, that's all. He's been studying too hard, his eyes are a trifle weak, muscles flabby, and his blood hasn't enough of the good red stuff in it. In short, he must live out of doors for a year or so, and then I'll guarantee he will come back with red cheeks and a pair of arms that will make you proud of him. Eh, Roger?" and Dr. Glasby pinched the rather small and soft biceps of the boy, smiling the while, good naturedly. "No disease, then, doctor?" from Mr. Anderson. "Nothing, my dear sir, except a general poor condition of the system." "Don't he need medicine, a tonic, or something? His mother and I are quite worried about him." "Not a drop of medicine for this patient," exclaimed Dr. Glasby. "Fresh air, fresh country air, and more air. That's all." The physician turned aside to replace the apparatus he had used; the stethoscope, with which he had listened to the beating of Roger's heart, the eye-testing mirrors and lights, and the lung-cylinder, into which the boy had blown more feebly than Dr. Glasby had liked to see.
