But at last they found an hotel--quite a
civilized hotel. . . .
The doctor in Monastir was an Armenian with an ambition that outran
his capacity to speak English. He had evidently studied the
language chiefly from books. He thought THESE was pronounced
"theser" and THOSE was pronounced "thoser," and that every English
sentence should be taken at a rush. He diagnosed Benham's complaint
in various languages and failed to make his meaning clear to Amanda.
One combination of words he clung to obstinately, having clearly the
utmost faith in its expressiveness. To Amanda it sounded like,
"May, Ah! Slays," and it seemed to her that he sought to intimate a
probable fatal termination of Benham's fever. But it was clear that
the doctor was not satisfied that she understood. He came again
with a queer little worn book, a parallel vocabulary of half-a-dozen
European languages.
He turned over the pages and pointed to a word. "May! Ah! Slays!"
he repeated, reproachfully, almost bitterly.
"Oh, MEASLES!" cried Amanda. . . .
So the spirited honeymoon passed its zenith.
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