SCARED TO LIFE 



and finger were poking about, and his warm ear 

 was trying to catch what he called the crack of 

 doom. When finally he sat down in the chair 

 before me, he disregarded my anxiety, and ran on 

 in pretty much the same way. 



&quot;You re a lively lot of boys down there on the 

 street. Your mother s alive yet, I believe.&quot; 



&quot;Yes.&quot; 



&quot; How old is she ? &quot; 



&quot; Seventy-six.&quot; 



&quot; How old was your father when he died ? &quot; 



tc Seventy-four. Come to the point, Doctor. 

 What chance have I got ? &quot; 



He looked at me a moment very much as if he 

 hesitated to tell me the truth. Then he said : &quot; Well, 

 my boy, it s a toss up whether you live to be 

 seventy-five or drop dead within six months.&quot; 



I felt a nerve in my face twitch, and he went on. 



&quot; I suppose I ought to congratulate you. It 

 isn t every one who has the privilege of going 

 down bow first, all sails set, at full speed, without 

 committing suicide.&quot; 



I asked him plainly if he could help my 

 chances. 



&quot; No,&quot; he said bluntly. &quot; It would be an im 

 pertinence for me to disturb the intimacy which 

 you have established with sudden death. Besides, 

 mortuary neatness and despatch have been very 

 much maligned. Some men are meant to live 

 right up to the stopping point, take all there is 

 of life, and then exit quickly and quietly without 

 any fuss. It s quite characteristic of the business 



5 



