Kitabı oku: «The Story of a Doctor's Telephone—Told by His Wife», sayfa 3
“I hope Jack and Maggie are not up so late.”
“It would be just like them to sit up till we came.”
The buggy stopped; the door flew open and Jack and Maggie stood framed in the doorway with the leaping yellow firelight for a background.
CHAPTER V
Once in a while sympathy for a fellow mortal kept the doctor's wife an interested listener at the 'phone. Going, one morning, to speak to a friend about some little matter she heard her husband say:
“What is it, doctor?” A physician in a little town some ten or twelve miles distant, who had called Dr. Blank in consultation a few days before, was calling him.
“I think our patient is doing very well, but her heart keeps getting a little faster.”
“How fast is it now?”
“About 120.”
“But the disease is pretty well advanced now – that doesn't mean as much as it would earlier. But you might push a little on the brandy, or the strychnine – how much brandy have you given her since I saw her?”
“I have given her four ounces.”
“Four ounces!”
“Yes.”
“Four ounces in three days? I think you must mean four drachms.”
“Yes. It is drachms. Four ounces would be fixing things up. I've been giving her digitalis; what do you think about that?”
“That's all right, but I think that strychnine would be a little better.”
“Would you give her any aromatic spirits of ammonia?”
“Does she rattle?”
“A little.”
“Then you might give her a little of that. And keep the room open and stick right to her and she ought to get along. Don't give her much to eat.”
“Is milk all right?”
“Yes. You bet it is.”
“All right then, doctor, I believe that's all. Good-bye.”
On another occasion, Mary caught this fragment:
“She's so everlastin' sore that she just hollers and yells every time I go near her. Would you give her any more morphine?”
“Morphine's a thing you can't monkey with you know, Doctor. You want to be mighty careful about that.”
“Yes. I know. How long will that morphine last?”
“That depends on how you use it. It won't last long if you use too much and neither will she.”
“I mean how long will it last in the system?”
“O! Why, three or four hours.”
“Well, I think she don't need no more medicine.”
Mary smiled at the double negative and when she laughingly spoke of it that night her husband assured her that that doctor's singleness of purpose more than offset his doubleness of negative. That he was a fine fellow and a good physician just the same.
One morning in March just as the doctor arose from the breakfast table he was called to the 'phone.
“Is this Dr. Blank?”
“Yes.”
“Doctor, will it hurt the baby to bathe it every morning? I've been doing that but some of the folks around here say I oughtn't to do it; they say it isn't good for a baby to bathe it so often.”
The doctor answered solemnly, “The baby's fat and healthy isn't it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And pretty?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Likes to see its mamma?”
“You know it.”
“Likes to see its papa?”
“He does that!” said the young mother.
“Then ask me next fall if it will hurt to bathe the baby every morning.”
“All right, Doctor,” laughed the baby's mamma.
“The fools are not all dead yet,” said John, as he took his hat and departed. On the step he turned back and put his head in at the door. “Keep an ear out, Mary. I'm likely to be away from the office a good bit this morning.”
An hour later a call came. Mary put the ear that was “out” to the receiver:
“It's on North Adams street.”
“All right. I'll be out there after awhile,” said her husband's placid voice.
“Don't wait too long. He may die before you git here.”
“No, he won't. I'll be along pretty soon.”
“Well, come just as quick as you can.”
“All right,” and the listener knew that it might be along toward noon before he got there.
About eleven o'clock the 'phone rang sharply.
“Is this Dr. Blank's house?”
“Yes.”
“Is he there?”
“I saw him pass here about twenty minutes ago. I'm sure he'll be back to the office in a little bit.”
“My land! I've been here three or four times. Looks like I'd ketch him some time.”
“You are at the office then? If you will sit down and wait just a little while, he will be in.”
“I come six miles to see him. I supposed of course he'd be in some time,” grumbled the voice (of course a woman's).
“But when he is called to visit a patient he must go, you know,” explained Mary.
“Y-e-s,” admitted the voice reluctantly. “Well, I'll wait here a little while longer.”
Ten minutes later Mary rang the office. Her husband replied.
“How long have you been back, John?”
“O, five or ten minutes.”
“Did you find a woman waiting for you?”
“No.”
“Well, I assured her you'd be there in a few minutes and she said she'd wait.”
“Do you know who she was?”
“No. Some one from the country. She said she came six miles to see you and she supposed you'd be in your office some time, and that sometime was mightily emphatic.”
“O, yes, I know now. She'll be in again,” laughed the doctor and Mary felt relieved, for in the querulous tones of the disappointed woman she had read disapproval of the doctor and of herself too, as the partner not only of his joys and sorrows, but of his laggard gait as well. The people who wait for a doctor are not apt to consider that a good many more may be waiting for him also at that particular moment of time.
CHAPTER VI
One of the most discouraging things I have encountered is a great blank silence. The doctor asks his wife to keep a close watch on the telephone for a little while, and leaves the office. Pretty soon it rings and she goes to answer it.
“Hello?” Silence. “What is it?” More silence. She knows that “unseen hands or spirits” did not ring that bell. She knows perfectly well that there is a listening ear at the other end of the line. But you cannot converse with silence any more than you can speak to a man you meet on the street if he purposely looks the other way.
Mary knew that the listening ear belonged to someone who recognized that it was the wife who answered instead of the doctor, and therefore kept silent. She smiled and hung up the receiver – sorry not to be able to help her husband and to give the needed information to the patient.
But when this had happened several times she thought of a more satisfactory way of dealing with the situation. She would take down the receiver and ask, “What is it?” She would wait a perceptible instant and then say distinctly and pleasantly, “Doctor Blank will be out of the office for about twenty minutes. He asked me to tell you.” That never failed to bring an answer, a hasty, shame-voiced, “Oh, I – well – thank you, Mrs. Blank, I'll call again, then.”
The doctor's absence from town has its telephonic puzzles. One day during Dr. Blank's absence his wife was called to the 'phone.
“Mrs. Blank, a telegram has just come for the doctor. What must I do with it?” It was the man at the office who put the question.
“Do you know what it is, or where it's from?”
“I asked the operator and he says it's from Mr. Slocum, who is in Cincinnati. He telegraphed the doctor to go and see his wife who is sick.”
“Well, take it over to Dr. Brown's office and ask him to go and see her.”
About half an hour later the thought of the telegram came into her mind. “I wonder if he found Dr. Brown in. I'd better find out.”
She rang the office. “Did you find Dr. Brown in?”
“Yes, he was there.”
“And you gave the message to him?”
“Yes, he took it.”
“I hope he went right down?”
“No, he said he wouldn't go.”
“Wouldn't go!” exclaimed Mary, much astonished.
“He said he knew Slocum and he was in all probability drunk when he sent the message.”
“Why, what a queer conclusion to arrive at. The doctor may be right but I think we ought to know.”
“I called up their house after I came back from Dr. Brown's office, but nobody answered. So she can't be very sick or she'd be at home.”
Mary put up the receiver hesitatingly. She was not satisfied about this matter. She went about her work, but her thoughts were on the message and the sick wife. Suddenly she thought of something – the Slocum children were in school. The mother had not been able to get to the 'phone to answer it. The thought of her lying there alone and helpless was too much. Mary went swiftly to the telephone and called the office.
“Johnson, you have to pass Mrs. Slocum's on your way to dinner. I think she may have been too ill to go to the 'phone. Please stop and find out something definite.”
“All right.”
“And let me know as soon as you can. If she isn't sick don't tell her anything about the telegram. Think up some excuse as you go along for coming in, in case all is well.”
In about twenty minutes the expected summons came.
“Well, I stopped, Mrs. Blank.”
“What did you find?”
“Well, I found a hatchet close to Slocum's gate.”
“How lucky!”
“I took it in to ask if it was theirs.”
“Was it?”
“No, it wasn't.”
“Who told you so?”
“Mrs. Slocum, herself, and she's about the healthiest looking invalid I've seen lately.”
“I'm much relieved. Thank you, Johnson.” And as she left the 'phone she meditated within herself, “Verily, the tender thoughtfulness of the husband drunk exceedeth that of the husband sober.”
When night came and Mary was preparing for bed she thought, “It will be very unpleasant to be called up only to tell people the doctor is not here.” She rose, went to the 'phone and called central.
“This is Mrs. Blank, central. If anyone should want the doctor tonight, or for the next two nights, please say he is out of town and will not be home until Saturday.”
Then with a delicious sense of freedom she went to bed and slept as sweetly as in the long-ago when the telephone was a thing undreamed of.
The ting-a-ling-ling-ling – came as Mary was pouring boiling water into the teapot, just before six on a cool July evening. The maid was temporarily absent and Mary had been getting supper in a very leisurely way when she saw her husband step up on the porch. Then her leisure was exchanged for hurry. The doctor's appearance before meal time was the signal to which she responded automatically – he had to catch a train – someone must have him right away, or what not? She must not keep him waiting a minute. She pushed the teapot back on the stove and went swiftly to the 'phone.
“Is this Dr. Blank's office?” asked a disturbed feminine voice.
“No, his residence. He is here. Wait a minute, please, and I will call him.”
She hurried out to the porch, “Isn't papa here?” she asked of her small boy sitting there.
“He was.”
“Well, where is he now?”
“I don't know where he is.”
Provoking! She hurried back. He must be in the garden. An occasional impulse to hoe sometimes came over him (especially if the day happened to be Sunday).
In the kitchen her daughter stood at a table cutting the bread for supper. “Go quick, and see if papa's in the garden. Tell him to come to the 'phone at once.”
Then she hurried back to re-assure the waiting one. But what could she tell her? Perhaps the doctor was not in the garden. She rushed out and beat her daughter in the race toward it. She sent her voice ahead, “John!” she called.
“Yes.”
“Come to the 'phone this minute.” Back she ran. Would she still be waiting?
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
“Yes, the doctor's here. He's in the garden but will be in in just a minute. Hold the 'phone please.”
“Very well, thank you.”
It was a minute and a half before the doctor got there.
“Hello.” No answer.
“Hello!” Silence.
“Hello!” Still no reply. The doctor rang sharply for central.
“Who was calling me a minute ago.”
“I don't know – we can't keep track of everybody who calls.”
The doctor hung up the receiver with an explosive monosyllable. Mary's patience was giving out too. “She couldn't wait one half minute. I told her you would be here in a minute and it took you a minute and a half.”
“She may be waiting at the office, I'll go down there.”
“I wouldn't do it,” said Mary, warmly. “It's much easier for her to stay a half minute at the 'phone than for you to tramp back to the office.”
But he went. As his wife went back to the kitchen her daughter called, “Mother, did you take the loaf of bread in there with you?”
“Why, no.”
“Well, it's not on the table where I was cutting it when you sent me after father.”
“It's on the floor!” shouted the small boy, peering through the window. “I won't eat any of it!”
“Don't, exquisite child,” said his sister, stooping over to recover the loaf, dropped in her haste. Ting-a-ling-ling-ling. Mary went.
“Isn't the doctor coming?”
“He came. He called repeatedly, but got no reply.”
“I was right here with my ear to the 'phone the whole time.”
“He concluded it might be someone waiting for him at the office, so he has gone down there.”
“I'm not there. I'm here at home.”
“Hello,” broke in the doctor's voice.
“O, here you are!”
“Doctor, I've been taking calomel today and then I took some salts and I thoughtlessly dissolved them in some lemonade I had handy!”
A solemn voice asked, “Have you made your will?”
A little giggle before the patient said “No.”
“You'll have plenty of time. You needn't hurry about it.”
“You don't think it will hurt me then?”
“No. Not a bit.”
“I was afraid the acid might salivate me.”
“Yes, that's an old and popular idea. But it won't.”
“That sounds good, Doctor. I was awfully scared. Much obliged. Good-bye.”
A week or two after the above incident the doctor was seated at his dinner, a leisurely Sunday dinner. The telephone called and he rose and went to it. The usual hush fell upon the table in order that he might hear.
“Is this Dr. Blank?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Doctor, this is Mrs. Abner. Would it be too much trouble for you to step into Hall's and ask them to send me up a quart of ice-cream for dinner?”
“Certainly not. A quart?”
“Yes, please. I'm sorry to bother you with it. They ought to have a 'phone.”
“No trouble.”
The doctor hung up the receiver and reached for his hat.
“Why, John, you surely can finish your dinner before you go!” exclaimed Mary.
“Then I'd spoil Mrs. Abner's dinner.”
“Mrs. Abner!”
“Yes, she wants a quart of ice-cream for dinner.”
“I'd like to know what you've got to do with it,” said Mary tartly.
“She thinks I'm at the office.”
“And the office is next door to Hall's and Hall's have no 'phone,” said Mary smiling. “Of course you must go. Wouldn't Mrs. Abner feel mortified though if she knew you had to leave your home in the midst of dinner to order her ice-cream. But do hurry back, John.”
“Maybe I'd better stay there till the dinner hour is well over,” laughed John. “Every now and then someone wants me to step into Hall's and order up something.”
He went good-naturedly away and his wife looked after him marveling, but withal admiring.
The doctor and his wife had been slumbering peacefully for an hour or two. Then came a loud ring and they were wide awake at once.
“That wasn't the telephone, John, it was the door-bell.”
The doctor got into his dressing-gown and went to the door.
His wife heard a man's voice, then her husband reply, then the door shut. She lay back on her pillow but it was evident John was not coming back. She must have dozed, for it seemed to her a long time had gone by when she started to hear a noise in the other room. John had not yet got off.
“You have to go some place, do you?” she called.
“Yes, – just a little way. Look out for the 'phone, Mary. I think I'll have to go down to Hanson's tonight, to meet the stork.”
“But how can I get word to you? They have no 'phone or that man wouldn't have come after you.”
“Well, I have promised Hanson and I'll have to go there. If he 'phones before I get back tell him he'll have to come down to Stetson's after me. Or, you might wake one of the boys and send him over.”
“I'd rather try to wake Rip Van Winkle,” said Mary, in a tone that settled it.
In about an hour the doctor was back and snuggling down under the covers.
“They've got a fine boy over to Stetson's,” he announced to his sleepy wife.
“They have!” she exclaimed, almost getting awake. Again they slept.
Ting-a-ling-ling-ling. Ting-a-ling-ling-ling. Ting-a-ling-ling-ling.
“That's Hanson,” exclaimed the doctor springing up and groping his way to the 'phone.
“Yes.”
“Out where?”
“Smith's on Parks avenue?.. Not Smith's?.. I understand – a little house farther down that street… Yes, I'll come… O, as soon as I can dress and get there.”
Mary heard, but when he had gone, was soon in a deep sleep.
By and by she found herself flinging off the covers and hurrying guiltily toward the summoning tyrant, her subconscious self telling her that this was the third peal.
“Hello.”
“Is the doctor there, Mrs. Blank?”
“No, he is over at Stetson's. He said if you 'phoned to tell you you would have to come there as they have no 'phone.”
“Wait a minute, Mrs. Blank,” said the voice of central, “some one is trying to speak – ”
“What have I said!” thought Mary suddenly, thoroughly awake. “He got back from Stetson's and went to another place. But I don't know what place nor where it is.”
The kindly voice of central went on:
“It's the doctor who is talking, Mrs. Blank. I understand now. He says if that message comes you are to 'phone him at James Smith's on Parks avenue.”
Mary looked at the clock. “So he's been there all this time. That stork is a little too busy tonight,” she thought as she went shivering back to bed.
Toward daylight she was roused by the return of her husband, who announced a new daughter in the world and then they went to sleep. The next morning she said, “John, I've just thought of something. Why didn't you have central 'phone you at Smith's if Hanson called and save me all that bother?”
“I guess it's because I'm so used to bothering you Mary, that I didn't think of it.”
Mary was upstairs cleaning house most vigorously when the ring came. She stopped and listened. It came again – three. She set the dust pan down and went.
“I'll have to be out for an hour or more, Mary,” said the doctor.
“I heard that sigh,” he laughed, “but it won't be very hard to sort of keep an ear on the 'phone, will it? Johnson may get in soon and then it won't be necessary.”
“Very well, then, John,” and she went upstairs, leaving the doors open behind her.
She had just reached the top when she had to turn about and retrace her steps.
“Hello.” No answer.
“Is someone calling Dr. Blank's house or office?”
“I rang your 'phone by mistake,” said central. Mary trudged up the stairs again. “This is more tiresome than cleaning house,” she said to herself as she went along.
In twenty minutes the summons came. She leaned her broom against the wall and went down.
“O, this is Mrs. Blank. I'm very sorry to have put you to this trouble – I wanted the doctor.”
She recognized the voice of her old pastor for whom she had a most kindly regard.
“He is out, but will be back within half an hour now, Mr. Rutledge.”
“Thank you, I'll call again, but I wonder that you knew my voice.” Mary laughed.
“I haven't heard it for awhile, but maybe I'll be at church next Sunday, if minding the telephone doesn't make me feel too wicked.”
“It's the wicked that church is for – come by all means.”
“I didn't mean to detain you, Mr. Rutledge. It is restful, though, after dragging one's weary feet down to the 'phone to hear something beside all the ills that flesh is heir to. Come to see us soon – one day next week.”
Once more she wended her way upstairs and in about fifteen minutes came the ting-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling. “I surrender!” she declared.
When she had gone down and put the receiver to her ear her husband's voice spoke kindly,
“I'm back, Mary, you're released.”
“Thank you, John, you are very thoughtful,” and she smiled as she took off her sun-bonnet and sat herself down. “Not another time will I climb those stairs this morning.”
Mary sat one evening dreamily thinking about them – these messages that came every day, every day!
Doctor, will it hurt Jennie to eat some tomatoes this morning – she craves them so?
Will is a great deal better. Can he have some ice-cream for dinner?
I can hardly manage Henry any longer, Doctor, he's determined he will have more to eat. Can I begin giving him a little more today?
Lemonade won't hurt Helen, will it? She wants some.
Doctor, I forget how many drops of that clear medicine I am to give… Ten, you say? Thank you.
Dr. Blank, is it after meals or before that the dark medicine is to be given… I thought so, but I wanted to be sure.
We are out of those powders you left. Do you think we will need any more?.. Then I'll send down for them.
How long will you be in the office this morning, Doctor?.. Very well, I'll be down in about an hour. I want you to see my throat.
You wanted me to let you know how Johnny is this morning. I don't think he has any fever now and he slept all night, so I guess you won't need to come down today.
Dr. Blank, I've got something coming on my finger. Do you suppose it's a felon?.. You can tell better when you see it?.. Well, I suppose you can. I'll be down at the office pretty soon and then I want you to tell me it's not a felon.
Mary seems a good deal better this morning, but she still has that pain in her side.
Doctor, I don't believe Joe is as well as he was last night. I think you had better come down.
As these old, old stories came leisurely into Mary's thoughts the telephone rang three times. She rose from her chair before the fire and went to answer it.
“Is this Dr. Blank's office?”
“No, his residence.”
“Is the doctor there?”
“No, but he will be down on the seven o'clock train.”
“And it's now not quite six. This is Mr. Andrews.”
Mary knew the name and the man.
“My wife is sick and I want to get a pint of alcohol for her.”
“An old subterfuge,” thought Mary, “I'm afraid he wants it for himself.” She knew that he was often under its influence.
“I can't get it without a prescription from a physician, you know. She needs it right away.”
“The thirst is on him,” thought our listener, pityingly.
The voice went on, “Mrs. Blank, couldn't you just speak to the druggist about it so I could get it right away?”
“Mr. Andrews,” she said hastily, “the druggist would pay no attention to me. I'm not a physician, you know. The doctor will be here in an hour – see him,” and she hurried the receiver into its place, anxious to get away from it. This was a story that was entirely new to her. Never before had she been asked to procure a prescription for alcohol or any of its attendant spirits. She liked the old stories best.
The doctor had been to the city and had got home at four o'clock in the morning. He had had to change cars in the night and consequently had had little sleep. When the door-bell rang his wife awakened instantly at the expected summons and rose to admit him. In a little while both were fast asleep. The wife, about a half hour later, found herself struggling to speak to somebody about something, she did not know what. But when the second long peal came from the 'phone she was fully awakened. How she hated to rouse the slumberer at her side.
“John,” she called softly. He did not move.
“John!” a little louder. He stirred slightly, but slept on.
“John, John!”
“Huh-h?”
“The telephone.”
He threw back the covers, and rising, stumbled to the 'phone.
“Hello.”
The voice of a little boy came to his half-awakened ear.
“Say, Pa, I can't sell these papers an' git through in time fer school.”
“Yes, you can!” roared a voice. “You jist want to fool around.” The doctor went back to bed.
“Wasn't the message for you?” inquired his wife. “What a shame to rouse you from your sleep for nothing.”
The doctor told her what the message was and was back in slumberland in an incredibly short space of time. Not so his wife. She was too thoroughly awake at last and dawn was beginning to peep around the edges of the window shades. She would not court slumber now but would lie awake with her own thoughts which were very pleasant thoughts this morning. By and by she rose softly, dressed and went out onto the veranda and looked long into the reddening eastern sky. Ever since she could remember she had felt this keen delight at the aspect of the sky in the very early morning. She stood for awhile, drinking in the beauty and the peacefulness of it all. Then she went in to her awakening household, glad that the little boy had 'phoned his “Pa” and by some means had got her too.
One midsummer night a tiny ringing came faintly and pleasantly into Mary's dreams. Not till it came the second or third time did she awaken to what it was. Then she sat up in bed calling her husband, who had just awakened too and sprung out of bed. Dazed, he stumbled about and could not find his way. With Mary's help he got his bearings and the next minute his thunderous “Hello” greeted her ears.
“Yes.”
“Worse tonight? In what way?”
An instant's silence. “Mrs. Brownson?” Silence. “Mrs. Brownson!” Silence.
“Damn that woman! She's rung off.”
“Well, don't swear into the 'phone, John. It's against the rules. Besides, she might hear you.”
The doctor was growling his way to his clothes.
“I suppose I've got to go down there,” was all the answer he made. When he was dressed and the screen had banged behind him after the manner of screens, Mary settled herself to sleep which came very soon. But she was soon routed out of it. She went to the 'phone, expecting to hear a querulous woman's voice asking, “Has the doctor started yet?” and her lips were framing the old and satisfactory reply, “Yes, he must be nearly there now,” when a man's voice asked, “Is this Dr. Blank's residence?”
“Yes.”
“Is the doctor there?”
“No, but he will be back in about twenty minutes.”
“Will you please tell him to come to J. H. Twitchell's?”
“Yes, I'll send him right down.”
“Thank you.”
She went back to her bed room then, turning, retraced her steps. The doctor could come home by way of Twitchell's as their home was not a great distance from the Brownson's.
She rang the Brownson's and after a little while a voice answered.
“Is this Mrs. Brownson?”
“Yes.”
“May I speak to Dr. Blank. I think he must be there now.”
“He's been here. He's gone home.”
Mary knew by the voice that its owner had not enjoyed getting out of bed. “I wonder how she would like to be in my place,” she thought, smiling. She dared not trust herself to her pillow. She might fall asleep and not waken when her husband came in. She wondered what time it was. Up there on the wall the clock was ticking serenely away – she had only to turn the button beside her to find out. But she did not turn it. In the sweet security of the dark she felt safe. In one brief flash of light some prowling burglar might discover her.
She sat down by the open window and looked up into the starlit sky. They were out tonight in countless numbers. Over there toward the northwest, lying along the tops of the trees was the Great Dipper. Wasn't it? Surely that particular curve in the handle was not to be found in any other constellation. She tried to see the Dipper itself but a cherry tree near her window blotted it out. Bend and peer as she might the branches intervened. It was tantalizing. She rose irresolute. Should she step out doors where the cherry tree would not be in the way? Not for a thousand dippers! She walked to another window. That view shut even the handle out. She looked for the Pleiades. They were not in the section of sky visible from the window where she stood. She turned and listened. Did she hear footsteps down the walk? She ought to be hearing her husband's by this time. He could not be walking at his usual gait. There he came! She went to the door looked through the screen and halted him as he drew near the steps.
“John, you'll have to take another trip. Mr. Twitchell has 'phoned for you.”
He turned and was soon out of sight. “Now! I can go to bed with a clear conscience,” and Mary sought her pillow. But she had better stay awake until he had time to get there lest Mr. Twitchell should 'phone again. In five or ten minutes the danger would be over. She waited. At last she closed her eyes to sleep. But what would be the use? In twenty minutes more her husband would come in and rouse her out of it. She had better just keep awake till he got back. And the next thing Mary heard was a snore. She opened her eyes to find it was broad daylight and her husband was sleeping soundly beside her.
