For eight days and nights Mr. Jones had been unable to sleep. All kinds of medicine had, had no effect whatsoever, and in desperation the Jones family summoned a renowned hypnotist. He fastened a beady eye on Mr. Jones and chanted, “You are asleep, Mr. Jones! The shadows are closing about you. Soft music is lulling your senses. You are asleep! You are asleep!” The anxious family looked at the ailing man-and sure enough he was asleep.
“You’re a miracle worker, ” the grateful son told the hypnotist- and paid him a substantial bonus. The hypnotist departed in triumph. As the outside door closed, Mr. Jones opened one eye. “Say, ” he demanded, “Is that lunatic gone yet?”