The Story of a Doctor's Telephone—Told by His WifeFirebaugh, Ellen M.
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The Story of a Doctor's Telephone—Told by His Wife
Firebaugh, Ellen M.
Physicians -- Anecdotes; Wit and humor
They walked down the street and as they drew near the office they saw
the figure of the office boy in the doorway silhouetted against the
light within. He was looking anxiously in their direction. Suddenly he
disappeared and the faint sound of a bell came to their ears. They
quickened their pace and as they came up the boy came hurriedly to the
door again.
"Is that you, Doctor?" he asked, peering out.
"Yes."
"I told a lady at the 'phone to wait a minute, she's 'phoned twice."
Mary waited at the door while her husband went into the office and over
to the 'phone.
"Yes. What is it?.... No. No. _No!_.... Listen to me..... Be _still_ and
listen to _me_! She's in no more danger of dying than _you_ are. She
couldn't die if she tried..... Be still, I say, and listen to me!" He
stamped his foot mightily. Mary laughed softly to herself. "Now don't
hang over her and _sympathize_ with her; that's exactly what she don't
need. And don't let the neighbors hang around her either. Shut the whole
tea-party out..... Well, tell 'em _I_ said so..... I don't care a damn
_what_ they think. Your duty and mine is to do the very best we can for
that girl. Now remember..... Yes, I'll be down on the nine o'clock train
tomorrow morning. Good-bye." He joined his wife at the door. "If anybody
wants me, come to the church," he said, turning to the boy.
Mary laid her hand within her husband's arm and they started on. They
met a man who stopped and asked the doctor how soon he would be at the
office, as he was on his way there to get some medicine.
"I'd better go back," said the doctor and back they went. It seemed to
Mary that her husband might move with more celerity in fixing up the
medicine. He was deliberation itself as he cut and arranged the little
squares of paper. Still more deliberately he heaped the little mounds of
white powder upon them. She looked on anxiously. At last he was ready to
fold them up! No, he reached for another bottle. He took out the cork,
but his spatula was not in sight. Nowise disturbed, he shifted bottles
and little boxes about on the table.
"Can't you use your knife, Doctor?" asked Mary.
"O, I'll find it--it's around here somewhere." In a minute or two the
missing spatula was discovered under a paper, and then the doctor
slowly, _so_ slowly, dished out little additions to the little mounds.
Then he laid the spatula up, put the cork carefully back in the bottle,
turned in his chair and put two questions to the waiting man, turned
back and folded the mounds in the squares with the most painstaking
care. In spite of herself Mary fidgeted and when the powders with
instructions were delivered and the man had gone, she rose hastily.
"_Do_ come now before somebody else wants something."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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