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‘How long does it take to put a person in condition here?’

‘It ought to take but a day or two; but in fact it takes from one to six weeks, according to the character and mentality of the patient.’

‘How is that?’

‘Do you see that crowd of women playing football, and boxing, and jumping fences yonder? They have been here six or seven weeks. They were spectral poor weaklings when they came. They were accustomed to nibbling at dainties and delicacies at set hours four times a day, and they had no appetite for anything. I questioned them, and then locked them into their rooms–the frailest ones to starve nine or ten hours, the others twelve or fifteen. Before long they began to beg; and indeed they suffered a good deal. They complained of nausea, headache, and so on. It was good to see them eat when the time was up. They could not remember when the devouring of a meal had afforded them such rapture– that was their word. Now, then, that ought to have ended their cure, but it didn’t. They were free to go to any meals in the house, and they chose their accustomed four. Within a day or two I had to interfere. Their appetites were weakening. I made them knock out a meal. That set them up again. Then they resumed the four. I begged them to learn to knock out a meal themselves, without waiting for me. Up to a fortnight ago they couldn’t; they really hadn’t manhood enough; but they were gaining it, and now I think they are safe. They drop out a meal every now and then of their own accord. They are in fine condition now, and they might safely go home, I think, but their confidence is not quite perfect yet, so they are waiting awhile.’

‘Other cases are different?’

‘Oh yes. Sometimes a man learns the whole trick in a week. Learns to regulate his appetite and keep it in perfect order. Learns to drop out a meal with frequency and not mind it.’

‘But why drop the entire meal out? Why not a part of it?’

‘It’s a poor device, and inadequate. If the stomach doesn’t call vigorously–with a shout, as you may say–it is better not to pester it but just give it a real rest. Some people can eat more meals than others, and still thrive. There are all sorts of people, and all sorts of appetites. I will show you a man presently who was accustomed to nibble at eight meals a day. It was beyond the proper gait of his appetite by two. I have got him down to six a day, now, and he is all right, and enjoys life. How many meals to you affect per day?’

‘Formerly–for twenty-two years–a meal and a half; during the past two years, two and a half: coffee and a roll at 9, luncheon at 1, dinner at 7.30 or 8.’

‘Formerly a meal and a half–that is, coffee and a roll at 9, dinner in the evening, nothing between–is that it?

‘Yes.’

‘Why did you add a meal?’

‘It was the family’s idea. They were uneasy. They thought I was killing myself.’

‘You found a meal and a half per day enough, all through the twenty-two years?’

‘Plenty.’

‘Your present poor condition is due to the extra meal. Drop it out. You are trying to eat oftener than your stomach demands. You don’t gain, you lose. You eat less food now, in a day, on two and a half meals, than you formerly ate on one and a half.’

‘True–a good deal less; for in those olds days my dinner was a very sizeable thing.’

‘Put yourself on a single meal a day, now–dinner–for a few days, till you secure a good, sound, regular, trustworthy appetite, then take to your one and a half permanently, and don’t listen to the family any more. When you have any ordinary ailment, particularly of a feverish sort, eat nothing at all during twenty-four hours. That will cure it. It will cure the stubbornest cold in the head, too. No cold in the head can survive twenty-four hours’ unmodified starvation.’