In upper Manhattan, at a Central Park West address, a woman physician’s sign occupies the front window of a brown stone front residence. She happens to be a friend of mine. Katherine is one of the most successful women practitioners in New York. Nine patients waited for her in the ante room the last time I was there. From the basement door, inadvertently left ajar, there floated up the sound of the doctor’s voice: “That chicken,” she was saying, “you may cream for luncheon. I have a case at the hospital at two o’clock. We’ll hang the new curtains in the dining-room at three. And—well, I’ll be down again before I start out this morning.” I know the Doctor so well that I can tell you pretty accurately what were the other domestic duties that had already received her attention. She has a most wonderful kitchen. She had glanced through it to see that the sink was clean and that each shining pot and pan was hanging on its own hook. She had given the order for the day to the butcher. She had planned the dinner for the evening, probably with a soup to utilise the remnants of Sunday’s roast. Then—I have known it to happen—some one perhaps called, “O, say, dear, here’s a button coming loose. Could you, ’er, just spare the time?” Well, ultimately she stands in the doorway of her office with her calm, pleasant “This way, please” to the first patient, and turns her attention to the diagnosis, we will say, of an appendicitis case. Meanwhile, down the front staircase a carefree gentleman has passed on his way to the doorway of the other office. He is the doctor whose sign is in the other front window of this same brown stone residence. What has he been doing in the early morning hours before taking up his professional duties for the day? His sole employment has been the reading of the morning newspaper! Katherine never interrupts him in that. It is one of the ways she has been such a successful wife. She learned the first year of their marriage how important he considered concentration. MAN’S EASY WAY TO FAME