noon
Your deadly disease is oftener than not a gentleman who takes your life without mauling you , but the minor diseases are mere bruisers who just go in for making one as uncomfortable and unpresentable as possible . Mr. Kilgore 's influenza had been coming on for several days , and when he woke up this particular morning and heard the rain dripping on the piazza-roof just under his bedroom-window , he concluded , like a sensible man , that he would stay at home and nurse himself over the fire that day , instead of going to the office . So he turned over and snoozed for an hour or two , luxuriating in a sense of aches and pains just pronounced enough to make the warmth and softness of the bed delightful . Toward noon , the edge of this enjoyment becoming dulled , he got up , dressed , and came downstairs to the parlor , where his brother 's wife -LRB- he was a bachelor , living with a married brother -RRB- had considerately kindled up a coal-fire in the grate for his benefit . After lying off in the rocking-chair till past dinner-time , he began to feel better and consequently restless . Concluding that he would like to read , he went rummaging about the bookcases for a likely-looking novel . At length he found in the upper shelf of a closet a book called `` Rôles of a Detective , '' containing various thrilling accounts of crimes and the entanglement of criminals in the meshes of law and evidence .