Revelations of a Wife: The Story of a HoneymoonGarrison, Adele
General
Revelations of a Wife: The Story of a Honeymoon
Garrison, Adele
Married people -- Fiction
"Yes," she replied. "Mr. Graham wished me to give you a message. He
was called away to a conference with one of the art editors about 11
o'clock. He expected to lunch with him and said he might not be in the
studio until quite late this afternoon."
"Have you any idea where he is lunching or where I could reach him?" I
asked sharply.
"Why! no, Mrs. Graham, I have not. Is there anything wrong?"
"His mother has been taken ill and I am very much worried about her.
If Mr. Graham comes in or telephones will you ask him to come home at
once, 'phoning me first if he will."
"Of course I will attend to it. Is there anything else I can do?"
"Nothing, thank you, you are very kind," I returned, and there was
genuine warmth in my voice this time.
For the discovery that I had been mistaken in my idea of Dicky's
luncheon engagement made me so ashamed of myself that I had no more
rancor against my husband's beautiful protégé.
I laughed bitterly at my own silliness as I turned from the telephone.
While I had been tormenting myself for hours at the picture I had
drawn of Dicky and his beautiful model lunching vis-a-vis, Dicky had
been keeping a prosaic business engagement with a man, and his model
had probably lunched frugally and unromantically on a sandwich or two
brought from home.
XVIII
"CALL ME MOTHER--IF YOU CAN"
"Will you kindly tell me who is the best physician here?"
"Why--I--pardon me--" the drug store clerk stammered. "Wait a moment
and I'll inquire. I'm new here."
"The boss says this chap's the best around here." He held out a
penciled card to me. "Dr. Pettit. Madison Square 4258."
"Dr. Pettit!" I repeated to myself. "Why! that must be the physician
who came to the apartment the night of my chafing dish party, when the
baby across the hall was brought to us in a convulsion."
A sudden swift remembrance came to me of the tact and firmness with
which the tall young physician had handled the difficult situation he
had found in our apartment. He was just the man, I decided, to handle
my refractory mother-in-law. So I called him up and he promised to
call as soon as his office hours were over.
My feet traveled no faster than my thoughts as I hurried back to
my own apartment and the bedside of my mother-in-law. I dreaded
inexpressibly the conflict I foresaw when the autocratic old woman
should find out that I had sent for a physician against her wishes.
As I entered the living room Katie rose from her seat at the door of
my mother-in-law's room.
"She not move while you gone," she said. "She sleep all time, but I
'fraid she awful seeck, she breathe so hard."
I went lightly into the bedroom and stood looking down upon the
austere old face against the pillow. It was a flushed old face now,
and the eyelids twitched as if there were pain somewhere in the body.
Her breathing, too, was more rapid and heavy than when I had left her,
or so I fancied.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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