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fixed in place with my eyes locked on the open pages of a book that made no sense, with a title I can’t remember. I couldn’t help it. Other pictures, other words made me splutter like a child. A laugh kept bursting out of me. I was helpless to hold it back. His posterior against a cold wall! No sooner did I succeed in pushing one picture from my thoughts than I imagined Fantan drawing that basin of hot water. I tried with all my might not to think of the immersion of the male part, but my defense failed. Another laugh assaulted me. I am ashamed to say it was at least half an hour before I could compose my features and calm my nerves sufficiently to leave.
     
    T HE LEECHES arrived the next day, an experimental procedure. Dr. Fulmer, his tiny mustache all aquiver, applied them directly to brother-in-law’s temples, where they would draw off an excess of fluid produced by the seminal overflow. Although I brought towels and attempted in my way to assist, I was soon barred from brother-in-law’s room and had to content myself by directing the preparation of invalid foods. I decided on chicken cream, lemon jelly, and peptonized beef tea. The last I prepared myself. I shredded the beef and set it in a saucepan of cold, salted water. I was heating the mixture gently, stirring out the juice, when Fleur came into the kitchen. Either she didn’t see me, or she acted entirely for my benefit.
    “Hot water,” she ordered Mrs. Testor, setting down a basin next to the stove.
    “Hot water yourself,” said Mrs. Testor, who was not to be ordered about by the likes of Fleur.
    “Hot water!” I exclaimed, shocked that such a mission be entrusted to Fleur. “I hardly think that for you to bring the hot water is appropriate.” I shooed her off. For such an intimate procedure, I reasoned as I rushed up with the basin, better that a family member be in attendance.
    “Thank you.” Dr. Fulmer accepted the basin at the door to brother-in-law’s room. I followed him in.
    “I need assistance,” said Dr. Fulmer over his shoulder. “Will you kindly hold the basin, Miss Gheen? The patient is suffering acute neuralgic spasms characterized by twitching of the extremities. The force of his movements could very well tip the basin. Take the utmost precautions.”
    I did so. Brother-in-law was sitting on the bed, quite limp, supported by Fantan. The leeches were blackly clustered at his temples and he was taking shallow breaths. His eyes were shut.
    “Now put the basin on the floor directly before the patient and kneel there with your hands on the rim, Miss Gheen. Steady!”
    Although I felt some trepidation regarding the procedure at this point, I took a deep breath and fiercely counseled myself to show but the most refined sense of disinterested compassion. I knew, of course, the location of the afflicted part. Yet I had not ever actually seen one. I couldn’t think how the doctor intended to immerse the necessary member while brother-in-law was in a seated position, but I knelt on the floor anyway. Fantan laid brother-in-law against some pillows, crouched beside me, removed John James Mauser’s socks and slippers. He then placed brother-in-law’s feet carefully in the basin. At that point I rose and left the room. His feet! I have never liked other people’s feet. I must confess it. Even as a girl I would avert my eyes when Placide took off her shoes. I made my way downstairs to the kitchen, wondering just what Dr. Fulmer took me for—a servant? Spinster handmaiden? My beef tea had boiled to a jelly meanwhile, too dark and rich for a weak constitution.
     
    L ATER , as I devoured the beef tea myself, I reflected. I realized that I missed being privy to brother-in-law’s treatments. For much of my life I was not acquainted with what may seem the obscure derivation of the adjective “sincere.” It is from two Latin words, sine , without, and cera , wax. What a rare thing it is to be treated without wax . My desire is always to conduct