The Story of a Doctor's Telephone—Told by His Wife

“Not for several hours, I am afraid.”

“Well, will you send him down as soon as he comes? We want him bad.”

Mary assured him she would do so. “Poor John,” she thought as she put up the receiver.

In a few minutes she went hurriedly back. When she had called central, she said, “I am very anxious to get Dr. Blank, central. He is eight miles southwest of here – at the home of Thomas Calhoun. Is there a 'phone there?” Silence for a few seconds then a voice, “No, there is no 'phone at Thomas Calhoun's.”

Disappointed, Mary stood irresolute, thinking. Then she asked,

“Is there a 'phone at Mr. William Huntley's?”

“Yes, William Huntley has a 'phone.”

“Thank you. Please call that house for me.”

In a minute a man's voice said, “Hello.”

“Is this Mr. Huntley?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Huntley, this is Mrs. Blank. You live not far from Thomas Calhoun's, do you not?”

“About half a mile.”

“Dr. Blank is there, or will be very soon, and there is an urgent call for him to go on to Drayton. I want to save him the long drive home first. I find there is no 'phone at Mr. Calhoun's so I have called you hoping you might be able to help me out. Perhaps someone of your family will be going down that way and will stop in.”

“I'll go, myself.”

“It's too bad to ask any one to go out on a day like this – ”

“That's all right, Mrs. Blank. Doc's been pretty clever to me.”

“Tell him, please, to go to John Small's at Drayton. I am very deeply obliged to you for your kindness, Mr. Huntley,” she said, hanging the receiver in its place.

“Eight miles back home, six miles from here to Drayton, six miles back – twenty miles in all. Four miles from Calhoun's to Drayton, six miles from Drayton home – ten miles saved on a blizzardy day,” she thought in the thankfulness of her heart.

A few minutes later she was again at the 'phone. “Please give me John Small's at Drayton.” When the voice came she said, “I wanted to tell you that the doctor will be there perhaps in about an hour now. I got your message to him so that he will go directly to your house.”

“I'm mighty glad to know it. Thank you, Mrs. Blank, for finding him and for letting us know.”

A terrible drive saved and some anxious hearts relieved. That dear 'phone! How thankful she was for it and for the country drives she had taken with her husband which had made her familiar with the homes and names of many farmers. Otherwise she could not have located her husband this morning. One day like this covered a multitude of tyrannies from the little instrument on the wall.

It was about half past seven. The doctor had thought it probable that he could get off early this evening and then he and Mary and the boys would have a game of whist. He had been called in consultation to W., a little town in an adjoining county, but he would be home in a little bit – in just ten minutes the train would be due.

“O, there goes that 'phone,” said the small boy wrathfully. “Now, I s'pose papa can't get here!”

His mother was already there with the receiver at her ear.

“This is Dr. Blank's residence.”

“No, but he will be here in fifteen or twenty minutes.”

“To Drayton?”

“Very well. I will give him your message as soon as he gets home. I'm afraid that ends the game for tonight, boys,” putting the receiver up.

“Why, does papa have to go away?”

“Yes, he has to drive six miles.”

“Gee-mi-nee – this dark night in the mud!”

Here a thought flashed into Mary's mind – Drayton was on the same railroad on which the doctor was rapidly nearing home – the next station beyond. She flew to the telephone and rang with nervous haste.

“Hello.”

“Is this the Big Four?”

“Yes.”

“This is Mrs. Blank. Dr. Blank is on the train which is due now. He is wanted at Drayton. When he gets off, will you please tell him?”

“To go on to Drayton?”

“Yes, to Alfred Walton's.”

“All right. I'll watch for him and see that he gets aboard again.”

“Thank you very much.”

The train whistled. “Just in time,” said Mary.

“But how'll papa get back?” asked the smaller boy.

“He's got a tie-ticket,” said his brother.

“Yes, papa would rather walk back on the railroad than drive both ways through this deep mud,” said their mother. “I have heard him say so.”

Another ring.

“Is the doctor there?”

“He has just gone on the train to Drayton.”

“How soon will he be back?”

“In an hour and a half, I should think.”

Mary heard the 'phoner say in an aside, “He won't be back for an hour and a half. Do you want to wait that long?”

Another voice replied, “Yes, I'll wait. Tell 'em to tell him to come just as quick as he gets back, though.”

This message was transmitted.

“And where is he to go?”

“To Henry Smith's, down by the Big Four depot.”

A few minutes later Mary had another idea. She went to the 'phone and asked central to give her Drayton, Mr. Walton's house.

In a minute a voice said, “What is it?” It was restful to Mary to have the usual opening varied. Perhaps eight out of ten began with,

“Hello!” The other two began, “Yes,” “Well,” “What is it?” and very rarely, “Good morning,” or “Good evening.”

“Is this the home of Mr. Walton at Drayton?”

“Yes.”

“Dr. Blank is there just now, isn't he?”

“Yes, but he's just going away.”

“Will you please ask him to come to the 'phone?”

In a minute her husband's voice was heard asking what was wanted.

“I want to save you a long walk when you get home, John. You're wanted at Henry Smith's down by the Big Four depot.”

“All right. I'll go in to see him when I get there. Much obliged.”

“A mile walk saved there,” mused the doctor's wife, as she joined the two boys, mildly grumbling because they couldn't have their game, and never could have it just when they wanted it. But a few chapters from Ivanhoe read to them by their mother made all serene again.

The Citizens' 'phone was ringing persistently. The doctor's wife had been upstairs and could not get to it in less than no time! But she got there.

“Do you know where Dr. Blank is?” the words hurled themselves against her ear.

“I don't know just at this minute – but he's here in town. I'm sure of that.”

“Why don't he come then!” The sentence came as from a catapult.

“I don't know anything about it. Where was he to go?”

A scornful “Huh!” came over the wire – “I guess you forgot to tell 'im.”

“I have not been asked to tell him anything this morning.”

There was heated silence for an instant, then a voice big with wrath:

“You told me not fifteen minutes ago that you would send him right down.”

“You are mistaken,” said Mary gently but firmly. “This is the first time I have been at the 'phone this morning.”

“Well, what do you think of that!” This was addressed to someone at the other end of the line, but it came clearly to Mary's ear and its intonation said volumes.

“You're the very identical woman that told me when I 'phoned awhile ago that you'd send him right down. It's the very same voice.”

“There is a mistake somewhere,” reiterated Mary, patiently, “but I'll send the doctor as soon as he gets in if you will give me your name.”

“I'll tell ye agin, then, that he's to come to Lige Thornton's.”

“Very well. I'll send him,” and Mary left the 'phone much mystified. “She was in dead earnest – and so was I. I can't understand it.” Glancing out of the window she saw her tall, young daughter coming up the walk. The solution came with lightning quickness – strange she didn't think of that, Gertrude had answered. She remembered now that others had thought their voices very much alike, especially over the 'phone. “If the woman had not talked in such a cyclonic way I would have thought of it,” she reflected.

When the young girl entered the room her mother said, “Gertrude, you answered the 'phone awhile ago, didn't you?”

“About twenty minutes ago. Some woman was so anxious for father to come right away that I just ran down to the office to see that he went.”

“That was very thoughtful of you, dear, but it's little credit we're getting for it.”

She related the dialogue that had just taken place and mother and daughter laughed in sympathy.

“Why, Mamma, we couldn't forget if we wanted to. That telephone is an Old Man of the Sea to both of us – is now and ever shall be, world without end.”

“But did you find your father at the office?”

“Yes, and waited till he fixed up some medicine for two patients already waiting, then shooed him out before some more came in. I wanted to get it off my mind.”

“I'm glad he is on his way. Now stay within hearing of the 'phone, dearie, till I finish my work up-stairs.”

“All right, Mamma, I'm going to make a cake now, but I can hear the 'phone plainly from the kitchen.”

It wasn't long till a ring was heard. Gertrude dusted the flour from her hands and started. “Which 'phone was it?” she asked the maid.

“I think it was the Farmers',” said Mollie, hesitating.

So to the Farmers' 'phone went Gertrude.

“Hello.”

No answer.

“Hello.”

Silence.

She clapped the receiver up and hurried to the Citizens' 'phone.

“Hello.”

“Is this Dr. Blank's?”

“Yes.”

“Is he there?”

“No, he was called – ” Here a loud ring from the other 'phone sounded.

“He was called down to – ” said Gertrude rapidly, then paused, unable to think of the name at the instant.

“If you will tell me where he went, I'll just 'phone down there for him,” said the voice.

A second peal from the other 'phone.

“Yes, yes!” said Gertrude impatiently. “O, I didn't mean that for you,” she hurried apologetically. “The other 'phone is calling, and I'm so confused I can't think. Will you excuse me just an instant till I see what is wanted?”

“Certainly.”

She flew to the Farmers' 'phone.

“Is this Dr. Blank's?”

“Yes.”

“Good while a-answerin',” grumbled a voice.

“I did answer but no one answered me.”

“Where's the doctor?”

“He's down in the east part of town – will be back in a little bit.”

“Well, when he comes tell him – just hold the 'phone a minute, will you, till I speak to my wife.”

“All right.” But she put the receiver swiftly up and rushed back to the waiting man. She could answer him and get back by the time the other was ready for her.

“Hello, still there?”

“Yes.”

“I've thought of the name – father went to Elijah Thornton's.”

“Thornton's – let's see – have you a telephone directory handy – could you give me their number?”

“Wait a minute, I'll see.” She raced through the pages, – “yes, here it is.”

A violent peal from the Farmers' 'phone. “He'll think I'm still hunting for the number,” she thought, letting the receiver hang and rushing to the other 'phone.

“Hello.”

“Thought you was a-goin' to hold the 'phone. I've had a turrible time gittin' any answer.”

“I've had a turrible time, too,” thought poor Gertrude.

“Tell the doctor to call me up,” and he gave his name and his number.

“All right, I'll tell him.” She clapped the receiver up lest there might be more to follow and sped back.

“Here it is,” she announced calmly, “Elijah Thornton, number 101.”

“Thank you, I'm afraid I've put you to a good deal of trouble.”

“Not at all.”

As she went back to her cake she said to herself, “Two telephones ringing at once can certainly make things interesting.”

One day in mid winter Mary sat half dreaming before the glowing coals. Snow had fallen all through the previous night and today there had been good coasting for the boys and girls.

Ting-a-ling-ling-ling. Ting-a-ling-ling-ling. Ting-a-ling-ling-ling.

She started up and went to answer it.

“Is this you, Mary?”

“Yes.”

“I'll be out of the office about twenty minutes.”

“Very well.”

Sometimes Mary wished her husband would be a little more explicit. She had a vague sort of feeling that central, or whoever should chance to hear him make this announcement to her so often, might think she requested or perhaps demanded it; might think she wanted to know every place her husband went.

In about half an hour the 'phone rang again, two rings.

John ought to be back. Should she take it for granted? It would be safer to put the receiver to her ear and listen for her husband's voice.

“Hello.”

“Hello.”

“Is this you Dr. Blank?”

“Looks like it.”

“We want ye to come down to our house right away.”

“Who is this?”

“W'y, this is Mrs. Peters.”

“Mrs. Peters? Oh yes,” said the doctor, recognizing the voice now.

“What's the matter down there, grandmother?”

“W'y – my little grandson, Johnny, was slidin' down hill on a board and got a splinter in his setter.”

“He did, eh?”

“Yes, he did, and a big one, too.”

“Well, I'll be down there right away. Have some boiled water.”

Mary turned away from the telephone that it might not register her low laughter as she put the receiver in its place. The next instant she took it down again with twinkling eyes and listened. Yes, the voices were silent, it would be safe. She rang two rings.

“Hello,” said her husband's voice.

“John,” said Mary, almost in a whisper, “for English free and unadorned, commend me to a little boy's grandmother!”

Two laughs met over the wire, then two receivers clicked.

One day Mary came in from a walk and noticed at once, a vacant place on the wall where the Farmers' 'phone had hung. She had heard rumors of a merger of the two systems and had fervently hoped that they might merge soon and forever.

“Look! Mamma,” said Gertrude, pointing to the wall.

“Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!One telephone is taken away!”

she chortled in her joy.

(The small boy of the household had been reading “Alice” and consequently declaiming the Jabberwock from morning till night, till its weird strains had become fixed in the various minds of the household and notably in Gertrude's.)

“It will simplify matters,” said her mother, smiling, “but liberty is not for us. That tuneful peal will still ring on,” and as she looked at the Citizens' 'phone the peal came.

CHAPTER III

One Monday evening the doctor and his wife sat chatting cosily before the fire. In the midst of their conversation, Mary looked up suddenly. “I had a queer little experience this morning, John, I want to tell you about it.”

“Tell ahead,” said John, propping his slippered feet up on the fender.

“Well, I got my pen and paper ready to write a letter to Mrs. E. I wanted to write it yesterday afternoon and tell her some little household incidents just while they were taking place, as she is fond of the doings and sayings of boys and they are more realistic if reported in the present tense. But I couldn't get at it yesterday afternoon. When I started to write it this morning it occurred to me to date the letter Sunday afternoon and write it just as I would have done yesterday – so I did. When I had got it half done or more I heard the door-bell and going to open it I saw through the large glass – ”

Ting-a-ling-ling-ling. Ting-a-ling-ling-ling.

The doctor went to the 'phone.

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Where do you live?”

“I'll be right down.”

He went back, hastily removed his slippers and began putting on his shoes. Mary saw that he had clean forgotten her story. Very well. It wouldn't take more than a minute to finish it – there would be plenty of time while he was getting into his shoes – but if he was not enough interested to refer to it again she certainly would not. In a few minutes the doctor was gone and Mary went to bed. An hour or two later his voice broke in upon her slumber. “Back again,” he said as he settled down upon his pillow. In a minute he exclaimed, “Say, Mary, what was the rest of that story?”

“O, don't get me roused up. I'm so sleepy,” she said drowsily.

“Well, I'd like to hear it.” The interest in her little story which had not been exhibited at the proper time was being exhibited now with a vengeance. She sighed and said, “I can't think of it now – tell you in the morning. Good night,” and turned away.

When morning came and they were both awake, the doctor again referred to the unfinished story.

“It's lost interest for me. It wasn't a story to start with, just a little incident that seemed odd – ”

“Well, let's have it.”

“Well, then,” said Mary, “I was writing away when the door-bell rang. I went to open it and saw through the glass the laundry man – ”

Ting-a-ling-ling-ling. Ting-a-ling-ling-ling. Ting-a-ling-ling-ling.

“Go on!” exclaimed her husband, hurriedly, “I'll wait till you finish.”

“I'll not race through a story in any such John Gilpin style,” said Mary, tartly. “Go, John!”

The doctor arose and went.

“No.”

“I think not.”

“Has she any fever?”

“All right, I'll be down in a little bit.”

Then he went back. “Now you can finish,” he said.

“Finis is written here,” said Mary. “Don't say story to me again!” So Mary's story remained unfinished.

But a few days later, when she was in the buggy with her husband she relented. “Now that the 'phone can't cut me short, John, I will finish about the odd incident just because you wanted to know. But it will fall pretty flat now, as all things do with too many preliminary flourishes.”

“Go on,” said the doctor.

“Well, you know I told you I dated my letter back to Sunday afternoon, and was writing away when I heard the door-bell ring. As I started toward the door I saw the laundry man standing there. I was conscious of looking at him in astonishment and in a dazed sort of way as I walked across the large room to open the door. I am sure he must have noticed the expression on my face. When I opened the door he asked as he always does, ‘Any laundry?’”

“‘Any laundry today?’ The words were on my tongue's end but I stopped them in time. You see it was really Sunday to me, so deep into the spirit of it had I got, and it was with a little shock that I came back to Monday again in time to answer the man in a rational way. And now my story's done.”

“Not a bad one, either,” said John, “I'm glad you condescended to finish it.”

The doctor came home at ten o'clock and went straight to bed and to sleep. At eleven he was called.

“What is it?” he asked gruffly.

“It's time for Silas to take his medicine and he won't do it.”

“Won't, eh?”

“No, he vows he won't.”

“Well, let him alone for a while and then try again.”

About one came another ring.

“We've both been asleep, Doctor, but I've been up fifteen minutes trying to get him to take his medicine and he won't do it. He says it's too damned nasty and that he don't need it anyhow.”

“Tell him I say he's a mighty good farmer, but a devilish poor doctor.”

“I don't know what to do. I can't make him take it.”

“You'll have to let him alone for awhile I guess, maybe he'll change his mind after awhile.”

At three o'clock the doctor was again at the telephone.

“Doctor, he just will not take it,” the voice was now quite distressed. “I can't manage him at all.”

“You ought to manage him. What's a wife for? Well, go to bed and don't bother him or me any more tonight.”

But early next morning Silas' wife telephoned again.

“I thought I ought to tell you that he hasn't taken it yet.”

“He'll get well anyway. Don't be a bit uneasy about him,” said the doctor, laughing, as he rung off.

“It's time to go, John.”

Mary was drawing on her gloves. She looked at her moveless husband as he sat before the crackling blaze in the big fireplace.

“This is better than church,” he made reply.

“But you promised you would go tonight. Come on.”

“It isn't time yet, is it?”

“The last bell will ring before we get there.”

“Well, let's wait till all that singing's over. That just about breaks my back.”

Mary sat down resignedly. If they missed the singing perhaps John would not look at his watch and sigh so loud during the sermon. And it might not be a bad idea to miss the singing for another reason. The last time John had gone to church he had astonished her by sliding up beside her, taking hold of the hymn-book and singing! It happened to be his old favorite, “Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood.”

Of course it was lovely that he should want to sing it with her – but the way he sang it! He was in the wrong key and he came out two or three syllables behind on most of the lines, but undismayed by the sudden curtailment went boldly ahead on the next. And Mary had been much relieved when the hymn was ended and the book was closed. So now she waited very patiently for her husband to make some move toward starting. By and by he got up and they went out. No sooner was the door closed behind them than the “ting-a-ling-ling-ling” was heard. The doctor threw open the door and went back. Mary, waiting at the threshold, heard one side of the dialogue.

“Yes.”

“Down where?”

“Shake up your 'phone. I can't hear you.”

“That's better. Now what is it?”

“Swallowed benzine, did she? How much?.. That won't kill her. Give her some warm water to drink. And give her a spoonful of mustard – anything to produce vomiting… She has? That's all right. Tell her to put her finger down her throat and vomit some more… No, I think it won't be necessary for me to come down… You would? Well, let me hear again in the next hour or two, and if you still want me I'll come. Good-bye.”

They walked down the street and as they drew near the office they saw the figure of the office boy in the doorway silhouetted against the light within. He was looking anxiously in their direction. Suddenly he disappeared and the faint sound of a bell came to their ears. They quickened their pace and as they came up the boy came hurriedly to the door again.

“Is that you, Doctor?” he asked, peering out.

“Yes.”

“I told a lady at the 'phone to wait a minute, she's 'phoned twice.” Mary waited at the door while her husband went into the office and over to the 'phone.

“Yes. What is it?.. No. No. No!… Listen to me… Be still and listen to me! She's in no more danger of dying than you are. She couldn't die if she tried… Be still, I say, and listen to me!” He stamped his foot mightily. Mary laughed softly to herself. “Now don't hang over her and sympathize with her; that's exactly what she don't need. And don't let the neighbors hang around her either. Shut the whole tea-party out… Well, tell 'em I said so… I don't care a damn what they think. Your duty and mine is to do the very best we can for that girl. Now remember… Yes, I'll be down on the nine o'clock train tomorrow morning. Good-bye.” He joined his wife at the door. “If anybody wants me, come to the church,” he said, turning to the boy.

Mary laid her hand within her husband's arm and they started on. They met a man who stopped and asked the doctor how soon he would be at the office, as he was on his way there to get some medicine.

“I'd better go back,” said the doctor and back they went. It seemed to Mary that her husband might move with more celerity in fixing up the medicine. He was deliberation itself as he cut and arranged the little squares of paper. Still more deliberately he heaped the little mounds of white powder upon them. She looked on anxiously. At last he was ready to fold them up! No, he reached for another bottle. He took out the cork, but his spatula was not in sight. Nowise disturbed, he shifted bottles and little boxes about on the table.

“Can't you use your knife, Doctor?” asked Mary.

“O, I'll find it – it's around here somewhere.” In a minute or two the missing spatula was discovered under a paper, and then the doctor slowly, so slowly, dished out little additions to the little mounds. Then he laid the spatula up, put the cork carefully back in the bottle, turned in his chair and put two questions to the waiting man, turned back and folded the mounds in the squares with the most painstaking care. In spite of herself Mary fidgeted and when the powders with instructions were delivered and the man had gone, she rose hastily. “Do come now before somebody else wants something.”