Up the Hill and Over. Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
"How many to-day?"
"That'd be telling. 'Tisn't professional to tell. Doctor says if a man wants to succeed, he's got to be as dumb as a noyster in business!"
"Pshaw!" said Ann, "Aunty'll tell. She always counts. Then you don't want a cookie?"
"Well—later on—Cricky! here's some one coming! You scoot—pike it!"
"I won't!" Ann stood her ground, peering eagerly around the rose bush. "It's only Esther Coombe. She'll be coming to see Aunt—no—she's coming here! Hi, Bubble, wake him up—quick!"
"Hum, Hum!" said Bubble in a loud voice, rattling a chair. The sleeper made no movement.
Ann, brave through anxiety, flew across the room and shook him with all the strength of her small hands. The heavy lids lifted and still Ann shook.
"Is it an earthquake?" asked the victim politely.
"No—it's a patient! Oh, do get up. Oh, goodness gracious, look at your hair!"
The doctor passed his hand absently over a disordered head. "Yes," he said, "I have always thought that shaking is not good for hair. Dear me! I believe I have been asleep!"
Ann threw him a glance of mingled admiration and reproach and vanished through the parlour door just as the step of the patient sounded upon the stone steps.
"Why, Bubble Burk!" said a voice. "What are you doing here?"
At the sound of the voice, sleep fled from the doctor's eyes. He arose precipitately.
"I'm workin'," Bubble's voice was not as confident as usual. "This here is Dr. Callandar's office. Mrs. Sykes' visitors go round to the front door."
"Oh! But it's the doctor I wish to see. Is he in?"
Bubble was now plainly agitated.
"If you'll just wait a moment, I'll—I'll see."
Leaving Esther smiling upon the steps he disappeared into the shaded office and pulled up the blinds. The couch had been decorously straightened. The office was empty! Bubble gave a sigh of relief and his professional manner returned.
"He isn't just what you might call in," he explained affably to Esther.
"But he'll be down directly. Walk in."
Esther walked in and took the seat which Bubble indicated.
"Somebody sick over at your house?" with ill-concealed hope.
Esther dimpled. "Not dangerously, thank you."
"Then it's just tickets for the choir concert. I might have known. But you're too late. Doctor's got half a dozen already. He—"
Further revelations were cut short by the entrance of the doctor himself. A doctor with sleep-cleared eyes, fresh collar, and newly brushed hair. A doctor who shook hands with his caller in a manner which even the professional Bubble felt to be irreproachable.
"Bubble, you may go."
With a grin of satisfied pride the junior partner departed, but once outside the gloomy expression returned.
"It's only choir-tickets!" he told Ann, who was waiting around the corner of the house. "Come on—let's go fishin'."
Inside the office Esther and the doctor looked at each other and smiled. He, because he felt like smiling; she, because she felt nervous. Yet it was not going to be as awkward as she had feared. With a decided sense of relief she realised that Dr. Callandar looked exactly like a doctor after all! Convention, even in clothes, has a calming effect. There was little of the weary tramp who had quenched his throat at the school pump in the well groomed and quietly capable looking doctor. With a notable decrease of tension Esther saw that the man before her was a stranger, a pleasant, professional stranger, with whom no embarrassment was possible.
As for him he realised nothing except that Coombe was really a delightful place. He felt glad that he had stayed.
"No one ill, I hope, Miss Coombe?" His tone, even, seemed to have lost the whimsical inflection of the tramp.
"No, Doctor. Not ill exactly. It is Aunt Amy. We cannot understand just what is the matter. You see, Aunty imagines things. She is not quite like other people. Perhaps," with a quick smile as she thought of Mrs. Sykes, "perhaps you may have heard of her—of her fantastic ideas? They are really quite harmless and apart from them she is the most sensible person I know. But lately, just the other day, something happened—"
He checked her with an almost imperceptible gesture. "Could you tell me about it from the beginning?"
Esther looked troubled. "I do not know much about the beginning. You see, Aunt Amy is my step-mother's aunt, and I have only known her since she came to live with us shortly after my father's second marriage. But I know that she has been subject to delusions since she was a young girl. She was to have been married and on the wedding day her lover became ill with scarlet fever, a most malignant type. She also sickened with it a little later; it killed him and left her mentally twisted—as she is now. Her health is good and the—strangeness—is not very noticeable. It has usually to do with unimportant things. She is really," with a little burst of enthusiasm, "a Perfect Dear!"
The doctor smiled. "And the new development?"
"It is not exactly new. She has always had one delusion more serious than the others. She believes that she has enemies somewhere who would do her harm if they got the chance. She is quite vague as to who or what they are. She refers to them as 'They.' Once, when she came to us first, she was frightened of poison and, although my father, who had great influence over her, seemed to cure her of any active fear, for years she has persisted in a curious habit of drinking her coffee without setting down the cup. The idea seemed to be that if she let it out of her hands 'They,' the mysterious persecutors, might avail themselves of the opportunity to drug it. Does it sound too fantastic?"
"No. It is not unusual—a fairly common delusion, in fact. There is a distinct type of brain trouble, one of whose symptoms is a conviction of persecution. The results are fantastic to a degree."
Well, the day before yesterday Aunt Amy was drinking her coffee as usual, when she heard Jane scream in the garden. She is very fond of Jane, and it startled her so that she jumped up at once, forgetting all about the coffee, and ran out to see what was the matter. Jane had cut her finger and the tiniest scratch upsets poor Auntie terribly. She is terrified of blood. When she came back she felt faint and at once picked up the cup and drank the remaining coffee. I hoped she had not noticed the slip but she must have done so, subconsciously, for when I was helping her with the dishes she turned suddenly white—ghastly. She had just remembered!
'They've got me at last, Esther!' she said with a kind of proud despair. 'I've been pretty smart, but not quite smart enough.'
I pretended not to understand and she explained quite seriously that while she had been absent in the garden 'They' had seen her half-filled cup and seized their opportunity. It was quite useless to point out that there was no one in the house but ourselves. She only said, 'Oh, "They" would not let me see them "They" are too smart for that.' Overwhelming smartness is one of the attributes of the mysterious 'They.'
"I hoped that the idea would wear away but it didn't; it strengthened. In vain I pointed out that she was perfectly well, with no symptom of poisoning. She merely answered that naturally 'They' would be too smart to use ordinary poisons with symptoms. 'I shall just grow weaker and weaker,' she said, 'and in a week or a month I shall die!' I tried to laugh but I was frightened. Mother advised taking no notice at all and I have tried not to, but I can't keep it up. She is certainly weaker and so strange and hopeless. I am terrified. Can mind really affect matter, Doctor Callandar?"
"No. As a scientific fact, it cannot. But it is true that certain states of mind and certain conditions of matter always correspond. Why this is so, no one knows, when we do know we shall hold the key to many mysteries. The understanding, even partial, of this correspondence will be a long step in a long new road.