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Literary Lapses
·
Stephen Leacock
34
"What
about
diet,
doctor?"
says
the
patient,
completely
cowed.
The
answer
to
this
question
varies
very
much.
It
depends
on
how
the
doctor
is
feeling
and
whether
it
is
long
since
he
had
a
meal
himself.
If
it
is
late
in
the
morning
and
the
doctor
is
ravenously
hungry,
he
says:
"Oh,
eat
plenty,
don't
be
afraid
of
it;
eat
meat,
vegetables,
starch,
glue,
cement,
anything
you
like."
But
if
the
doctor
has
just
had
lunch
and
if
his
breathing
is
short-circuited
with
huckleberry-pie,
he
says
very
firmly:
"No,
I
don't
want
you
to
eat
anything
at
all:
absolutely
not
a
bite;
it
won't
hurt
you,
a
little
self-denial
in
the
matter
of
eating
is
the
best
thing
in
the
world."
"And
what
about
drinking?"
Again
the
doctor's
answer
varies.
He
may
say:
"Oh,
yes,
you
might
drink
a
glass
of
lager
now
and
then,
or,
if
you
prefer
it,
a
gin
and
soda
or
a
whisky
and
Apollinaris,
and
I
think
before
going
to
bed
I'd
take
a
hot
Scotch
with
a
couple
of
lumps
of
white
sugar
and
bit
of
lemon-peel
in
it
and
a
good
grating
of
nutmeg
on
the
top."
The
doctor
says
this
with
real
feeling,
and
his
eye
glistens
with
the
pure
love
of
his
profession.
But
if,
on
the
other
hand,
the
doctor
has
spent
the
night
before
at
a
little
gathering
of
medical
friends,
he
is
very
apt
to
forbid
the
patient
to
touch
alcohol
in
any
shape,
and
to
dismiss
the
subject
with
great
severity.
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