The Story of a Doctor's Telephone—Told by His Wife. Firebaugh Ellen M.
John,” she says in a low voice, “I came to the 'phone thinking you were out and heard that message. I think you ought to go out there right away.”
“Well, I'm going after a little.”
“But I don't think you ought to wait. I'm sure it's —you know.”
“Well, – maybe I had better go right out.”
“I wish you would. I know they'll be looking for you every minute.”
A few minutes later Mary saw him drive past and was glad. Half an hour later the office ring sounded. She did not wait for the second peal. True, John had not said, “Watch the 'phone,” today, but that was understood. Occasionally he got an old man who lived next door to the office to come in and stay during his absence. Possibly he might have done so today. But even if he were there the telephone and its ways were a dark mystery to him and besides, his deafness made him of little use in that direction.
Mary took down the receiver and put it to her ear. A lady's voice was asking, “Who is this?”
Mary knew from her inflection that she had asked something before and was not satisfied with the reply.
“This is Dr. Blank's office?” announced the old man in a sort of interrogative.
“Well, where is the doctor?”
“The doctor,” said the old man meditatively, as if wondering that anybody should be calling for him – “the doctor – you mean Dr. Blank, I reckon?”
“I certainly do.”
“Good Heavens,” thought Mary, “why don't he go on!”
“Why, he's out.”
“Where is he?”
“He went to the country.”
Mary shut her lips tight.
“Well, when will he be back?”
“He 'lowed he'd be back in about an hour or so.”
“How long has he been gone? Maybe I'll get some information after a while.”
Mary longed to speak. Why hadn't she done so at first. If she thrust herself in now it would make her out an eavesdropper. But this was unbearable. She opened her mouth to speak when the old man answered.
“He's been gone over an hour now, I reckon.”
“Then he'll soon be back. Will you be there when he comes?”
“Yes ma'am.”
“Then tell him to come up to Mrs. Dorlan's.”
“To Mrs. Who's?”
“Mrs. Dorlan's.”
“I didn't ketch the name.”
“Mrs. Dorlan's, on Brownson street.”
“Mrs. Torren's?”
“MISS-ES – DOR-LAN'S!” shouted the voice.
Mary sighed fiercely and clinched her teeth unconsciously. “I will speak,” she thought, when the old voice ventured doubtingly,
“Mrs. Dorlan's?”
“That's it. Mrs. Dorlan's on Brownson street, will you remember it?”
“Mrs. Dorlan's, on Brownson street.”
“That's right. Please tell him just as soon as he comes to come right up.”
“All right – I'll tell him.”
“Poor old fellow!” said Mary as she turned from the 'phone, “but I don't want to go through any more ordeals like that. It was a good deal harder for me than for the other woman.”
The doctor came down late to dinner. “You got Mrs. Dorlan's message did you?”
“Yes, I'll go up there right after dinner.” He looked at his wife with peculiar admiration.
“How did you know what was wanted with me out in the country?” he asked.
With a little pardonable pride she replied: “Oh, I just felt it. Women have ways of understanding each other that men never attain to. Is it a boy or a girl added to the world today?”
“Neither,” said the doctor placidly, helping himself to a roll.
Chagrin overspread her face. “Well,” she said with an embarrassed smile, “I erred on mercy's side, and it might have happened in just that way, John, and you know it.”
The doctor laughed. “There was mighty little the matter out there – they didn't need a doctor.”
“Are they good pay?”
“Good as old wheat.”
“Then there are compensations.”
Some hours later when the 'phone rang, Mary went to explain that the doctor had 'phoned her he would be out about twenty minutes. But she found no chance to speak. A spirited dialogue was taking place between a young man and a maid:
“Where are you, Jack?”
“I'm right here.”
“Smarty! Where are you!”
“In Dr. Blank's office.”
“What are you there for?”
“I'm waiting for the doctor and to while away the time thought I'd call you up.”
Then it was his ring that Mary had answered. “I ought to hang this receiver right up,” thought she, but instead she held it, her face beaming with a sympathetic smile.
“Are you feeling better today, Dolly?”
“Yes, I'm better.”
“Able to go to the show then, tonight?”
“Yes, I'm able to go.”
Here a thin small voice put in, “No, you're not able! You're not going.”
“Mamma says, – ” began a pouting voice.
“I heard what she said,” said Jack, laughing. “Have you been up all day?”
“Most of the day.”
“Can you eat anything?”
“I ate an egg, some toast and some fruit for dinner.”
“That's fine. I'll bring you a box of candy then pretty soon – I'm coming down in a little bit.”
“That will be lovely.”
“Which, the candy or the coming down?”
“The candy, goose, of course.” A laugh at both ends of the wire.
Then Jack's voice. “Well, here comes the doctor. I've got to have my neck amputated now. Goodbye.”
“Good-bye.”
“All's fair in love and war,” said Mary, “and it's plain to see what this is.” Then she hung up the receiver without a qualm.
There were other times when the doctor's wife was glad she had gone to the 'phone, as in this instance.
She had taken down the receiver when a man's voice said, “The doctor just stepped out for a few minutes. If you will tell me your name, madam, I'll have him call you when he comes in.”
Disinterested courtesy spoke in his voice, but Mary was not in the least surprised to hear the curt reply, “It won't be necessary. I'll call him when he comes.”
“I dare say that gentleman, whoever he may be, is wondering what he has done,” thought Mary.
But it was not altogether unpleasant to her to hear somebody else squelched, too!
There came a day when the doctor's wife rebelled. When her husband came home and ate his supper hastily and then rose to depart, she said, “You'd better wait at