The Story of a Doctor's Telephone—Told by His Wife. Ellen M. Firebaugh
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 home a few minutes, John.”
“Why?” He put the question brusquely, his hat in his hand.
“Because I think someone will ring here for you in a minute or two. Some man rang the office twice so I went to the 'phone to explain that you must be on your way to supper and he could find you here.”
“Who was it?”
“I do not know.”
“Thunder! Why didn't you find out?”
Mary looked straight at her husband. “How many times have I told you, John, that many people decline to give their names or their messages to any one but you. I think I should feel that way about it myself. For a long time I have dutifully done your bidding in the matter, but now I vow I will not trample my pride under my feet any longer—especially when it is all in vain. I will watch the 'phone as faithfully as in the past, but I will not ask for any name or any message. They will be given voluntarily if at all.”
“All right, Mary,” said the doctor, gently, seeing that she was quite serious.
“I do not mean to say that most of the people who 'phone are grouchy and disagreeable—far from it. Indeed the majority are pleasant and courteous. But it is those who are not who have routed me, and made