The Story of a Doctor's Telephone—Told by His WifeFirebaugh, Ellen M.
General
The Story of a Doctor's Telephone—Told by His Wife
Firebaugh, Ellen M.
Physicians -- Anecdotes; Wit and humor
Click, click, click, click, and lots of people mad, but the doctor got
the message.
* * * * *
Ting-a-ling-ling-ling.
"Is this Mrs. Blank?"
"Yes."
"I telephoned the office and couldn't get the doctor so I'll tell you
what I wanted and you can tell him. His patient down here in the
country, Mrs. Miller, is out of powders and she wants him to send some
down by Mrs. Richards, if he can find her."
"Where is Mrs. Richards?"
"She's up there in town somewhere."
"Does she know that the powders are to be sent by her and will she call
at the office?"
"No, I don't think she knows anything about it. Mrs. Miller didn't know
she was out till after she left. That's all," and she was gone.
"All!" echoed Mary.
In a few minutes when she thought her husband had had time to return she
went to the 'phone and told him he must go out and hunt up Mrs.
Richards.
"What for?"
"Because Mrs. Miller wants you to find her and send some powders down by
her."
An explosion came and Mary retired laughing and marvelling to what
strange uses telephones--and doctors--are put.
CHAPTER XII.
It was a lovely morning in late September. The sun almost shone through
the film of light gray clouds which lay serenely over all the heavens.
There was a golden gleam in the atmosphere,
"And a tender touch upon everything
As if Autumn remembered the days of Spring."
The doctor and his wife were keenly alive to the beauty of the day.
After they had driven several miles they stopped before a little brown
house. The doctor said he would like Mary to go in and she followed him
into the low-ceiled room.
"Here, you youngsters, go out into the yard," said the mother of the
children. "There ain't room to turn around when you all get in." They
went. A baby seven or eight months old sat on the floor and stared up at
Mary as she seated herself near it. Two women of the neighborhood sat
solemnly near by. The doctor approached the bed on which a young woman
of eighteen or twenty years was lying.
"My heart hain't beat for five minutes," she said.
"Is that so?" said the doctor, quite calm in the face of an announcement
so startling. "Well, we'll have to start it up again."
"That's the first time she has spoke since yesterday morning," said one
of the solemn women in a low tone to the doctor.
"It didn't hurt her to keep still. She could have spoken if she had
wanted to." The two women looked at each other. "No, she couldn't speak,
Doctor," said one of them.
"Oh, yes she could," replied the doctor with great nonchalance.
"I _couldn't_!" said the patient with much vigor. This was just what he
wanted. He examined her carefully but said not a word.
"How long do you think I'll live?" she asked after a little.
"Well, that's a hard question to answer--but you ought to be good for
forty or fifty years yet."
The patient sniffed contemptuously. "Huh, I guess you don't know it all
if you _are_ a doctor."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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