THE FANSHAWE GHOST
AS it was nearly time for his first client of the day to arrive, Astro the Palmist ended the little lesson in optical anatomy he had been giving to Valeska. He closed the transparent doors of the huge model of the human eye about which he had been talking, and replaced it on a shelf in his laboratory, where it remained, a large livid ball of glass and porcelain, veined with red.
"It's simply wonderful!" Valeska said, staring at it hard.
Astro laughed, and passed into the great studio for his morning consultations. "And yet," he remarked, "Helmholtz says, 'Nature seems to have packed this organ with mistakes.' I'll explain that sometime. Most people do think that the body of man is the consummation of the Maker's skill and wisdom. In point of fact, it is far from being perfect.
"Think of the ants and bees," he went on thoughtfully. "Think of their strength and adaptability! By a mere change of diet a neuter can become a perfect female."
"Do you mean to say that men's bodies are not so good as some of the animals' bodies?" Valeska asked.
"I mean to say that the human machine is imperfect. It contains much that is unnecessary, much that is not well adapted to the struggle for existence."
Astro, now assuming his red silken robe and turban,
