Publisher's Synopsis
"I don't believe a word of it!" "But, Helen, the doctor ought to know." "Of course he ought to know, but does he know? If doctors agreed among themselves, I'd have more use for them. A poor patient has to submit to having everything the doctors are interested in for the time being. A specialist can always find you suffering with his specialty. Didn't old Dr. Davis treat Father for malaria because he himself, forsooth, happened to be born in the Dismal Swamp, got malaria into his system when he was a baby and never got it out? All his patients must have malaria, too, because Dr. Davis has it." "Yes, Helen, that is so, but you see Father's symptoms were like malaria in a way," and Douglas Carter could not help laughing at her sister, although she well knew that the last doctor's diagnosis of her father's case was no laughing matter. "Oh, yes, and then the next one, that bushy-whiskered one with his stomach pump and learned talk of an excess of hydrochlorics! Of course he found poor dear Daddy had a stomach, though he had never before been aware of it. All the Carters are such ostriches--"
