***** At the end of each day Ah Cum would inquire as to the progress of the patient, and invariably the answer was: "About the same. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. It is most uncomfortable for every one concerned. ‘Adieu, imbecile,’ she threw at him gleefully.
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