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

She laughed in answer to this most superfluous request, then sat her down near by.

“John, Mrs. B. said a pretty good thing last night.”

“That's good.”

“I've a notion not to tell you, now that the good thing was about you.”

“That's better still. But are good things about me so rare that you made a note of it?”

“I don't know but what they are,” said Mary, reflectively. “There was Mrs. C., you know, who said she didn't see how in the world Doc Blank's wife ever lived with him – he was so mean.”

“I wonder about that myself, sometimes.”

“The way I manage it is to assert myself when it becomes necessary – and it does. You're a physician to your patients but to me you're a mere man.”

“I feel myself shrivelling. But how about Mrs. B.'s compliment?”

“I was over at the church where a social program of some sort was being given and ‘between acts’ everybody was moving about chatting. An elderly woman near me asked, ‘Mrs. Blank, do you know who the Hammell's are?’ I told her that I did not, and she went on, ‘I see by the paper that a member of their family died today, and I thought you, being a doctor's wife, might know something about it.’

“Mrs. B. spoke up promptly, ‘Why, Mrs. Blank wouldn't know anything about the dead people – her husband gets 'em well.’”

The doctor laughed, “And she believes it too,” he said.

“No doubt of it. So a compliment like that offsets one of Mrs. C.'s kind.”

“O, no. The C.'s have it by a big majority. Don't you know I have the reputation of being the meanest man in the county?”

“No, I don't.”

“Well, I have. Do you remember that drive we took a week or two ago up north?”

“That long drive?”

“Yes. When I went in the man who was a stranger to me, said, ‘I'll tell you why I sent for you. I've had two or three doctors out here, recommended as good doctors, and they haven't done me a darned bit of good. Yesterday I heard you was the meanest doctor in this county and I said to myself, “He's the man I want.”’”

“I heard you laughing and wondered what it was about. The man's wife came out to the buggy and talked to me. She said they were strangers and didn't know anything about the doctors around here – they had thought of sending down to this town for a doctor but she had spoken to a woman – a neighbor – and she had said there wasn't any of 'em any account down there. But her husband kept getting worse so they finally sent for Dr. Blank and she hoped he'd cure 'im. Are you doing it? I hope so for I assured her that the physicians of this town are recognized throughout the State as being men of exceptional ability, and she went in, comforted.”

“Yes, he got better as soon as he struck the road to health,” laughed John. He took out his watch. “Jove! I haven't any time to spare if I catch that train.” For several days he had been taking the train to a little station some miles out of town, where he would get off and walk a mile to the home of his patient, make his visit and walk back in time to catch the train for home.

Just after the doctor left the house the telephone rang twice. His wife answered it, knowing he had not yet reached the office.

“Is the doctor there?”

“He left the house just a minute ago.”

“Well, he's coming down today isn't he?”

“Is this Mrs. Shortridge?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, he just said he must make that train.”

“He'll go to the office first won't he?”

“Yes, to get his case, I think.”

“Will you please telephone him there to bring a roast with him?”

“To bring what?”

“A roast.”

Mary was nonplussed. Her husband had the reputation of “roasting” his patients and their attendants on occasion. Had an occasion arisen now?

“Why, ye-es,” she began, uncertainly, when the voice spoke again.

“I mean a roast of beef, Mrs. Blank. I thought as the doctor was coming he wouldn't mind stopping at the butcher's and bringing me a roast – tell him a good-sized one.”

The receiver clicked. Mary still held hers. Then she rang the office.

“What is it?” Great haste spoke in the voice.

“John, Mrs. Shortridge wants you to bring her a roast of beef when you go down.”

“The devil she does!”

“The market is right on your way. Hurry. Don't miss the train!” She put up the receiver, then she snatched it and rang again violently.

“Now what!” thundered John's voice.

“She said to get a good-sized one.” Standing with the receiver in her hand and shaking with laughter she heard the office-door shut with a bang and knew that he was off.

She knew that if he had been going in the buggy he would have been glad to do Mrs. S.'s bidding. He often carried ice and other needful things to homes where he visited. Mary pictured her husband picking his way along a muddy country road, his case in one hand and the “roast” in the other, and thought within herself, “He'll be in a better mood for a roast when he arrives than when he started.”

Mary was out in the kitchen making jelly. At the critical moment when the beaded bubbles were “winking at the brim” came the ring. She lifted the kettle to one side, wiped her hands and went.

“Is this you, Mary?”

“Yes.”

“Watch the 'phone a little bit, please. I have to be out about half an hour.”

“I'm always watching the 'phone, John, always, always!”

She went back to her jelly. She put it back on the fire, an inert mass with all the bubbles died out of it. Scarcely had she done so when the 'phone rang – two rings. Surely the doctor had not got beyond hearing distance. He would answer. But perhaps he had – he was a very swift walker. The only way to be sure of it was to go to the telephone and listen. She went hastily back and as she put the receiver to her ear there came a buzz against it which made her jump.

“Hello,” she said.

“I wanted the doctor, Mrs. Blank, do you know where he is?”

“He just 'phoned me that he – ” an unmistakable sound arose from the kitchen stove. The jelly was boiling over! Instinct is older than the telephone. The receiver dangled in air while Mary rushed madly to the rescue. “I might have known it,” she said to herself, as she pushed the kettle aside and rushed back to the 'phone.

“I guess they cut us off,” said the voice.

“I was just saying,” said Mary, “that the doctor 'phoned me a few minutes ago he would be out for half an hour.”

“Will you please tell him when he comes in to call up 83?”

The man goes on his way, relieved of further responsibility in the matter. It will be a very easy thing for the doctor's wife to call up her husband and give him the message. Let us see.

When the jelly was done, and Mary had begun to fill the waiting glasses she thought, “I'd better see if John is back. He may go out again before I can deliver that message.” So she set the kettle on the back of the stove and went to ascertain if her husband had returned. No answer to her ring. She had better ring again to be sure of it. No answer. She went back to the kitchen. When the glasses were all filled and she had held first one and then another up to get the sunlight through the clear beautiful redness of them, she began setting them back to cool. The telephone! She hurried in and rang again to see if John had got back. Silence. She sighed and hung up the receiver. “I'd like to get it off my mind.” As she started toward the kitchen again the door-bell rang. She went to open the door, and wonder of wonders – an old friend she had not seen for years!

“I am passing through town, Mary, and have just three quarters of an hour till my train goes. Now sit down and talk.”

And the pair of them did talk, oblivious to everything about them. How the minutes did fly and the questions too! The 'phone rang in the next room – two rings. On Mary's accustomed ear it fell unheeded. She talked on. Again two rings. She did not notice.

“Isn't that your 'phone?” asked the visitor.

“O, yes! You knocked it clean out of my head, Alice. Excuse me a minute,” and she vanished.

“Did you give that message to the doctor?”

“He is not back yet.”

“I saw him go into the office not ten minutes ago.”

“I have 'phoned twice and failed to find him.”

“I hoped when I saw him leave the office that he had started down to see my little boy, but of course he hasn't if he didn't get the message.”

“I am sorry. An old friend I had not seen for years came in and of course it went out of my mind for a few minutes, though I 'phoned twice before she came. I am sure he will be back in a few minutes and I will send him right down, Mr. Nelson.”

“Why do you do that?” asked her friend, pointedly as she came in. “Why take upon yourself the responsibility of people's messages being delivered.”

“It is an awful responsibility. I don't know why I do it – so many people seem to expect it as a matter of course – ”

“It's a great deal easier for each person to deliver his own message than for you to have a half dozen on your mind at once. I wouldn't do it. You'll be a raving lunatic by the next time I see you.”

“At least I'll have ample time in which to become one,” laughed Mary.

“I'm going,” announced her friend, suddenly rising. “I could spare five or ten minutes more but if I sit here you'll forget that 'phone again. But take my advice, Mary, and institute a change in the order of things.”

When she had gone Mary sat for a few minutes lost in thought. Then, remembering, she sprang up and went to the 'phone. No answer to her ring. “Dear me! Will I never get that message delivered and off my mind.” Soon a ring came.

“Isn't he back yet?”

“I 'phoned about three minutes ago and failed to get him. By the way, Mr. Nelson, will you just 'phone the doctor at the office, please? That will be a more direct way to get him as I seem to fail altogether this morning. I am sure that he can't be gone much longer,” she said very pleasantly and hung up the receiver. The responsibility had been gracefully shifted and she was free for a while. Other occasions would arise when she could not be free, but in cases of this kind her friend's clear insight had helped her out.

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

“Hello.”

“Is this Dr. Blank?”

“Yes.”

“My husband has just started for your office. He says he's going to send you down. I don't need a doctor. Will you tell him that?”

“I'll tell him you said so.”

“Well, I don't. So don't you come!”

“All right. I haven't got time to be bothered with you anyway. The sick people take my time.”

In a few minutes the 'phone rang again.

“Dr. Blank, can you come over to the Woolson Hotel?”

“Right away?”

“Yes, if you can. There's a case here I've treated a little that I'm not satisfied about.”

“All right, Doctor, I'll be there in a few minutes.”

When he reached the hotel and had examined the patient he said, “He has smallpox.”

“I began to suspect that.”

“Not a bit of doubt of it.”

“The hotel is full of people – I'm afraid there'll be a panic.”

“We must get him out of here. We'll have to improvise a pest-house at once. I'll go and see about it.”

That evening about an hour after supper the doctor's daughter came hurriedly into the room where her mother was sitting.

“Mother,” she exclaimed, “there's an awful lot of people in the office, a regular mob and they're as mad as fury.”

“What about?” exclaimed her mother, startled.

“They're mad at father for putting the tent for a smallpox patient down in their neighborhood.”

“Is he in the office now?”

“He was there when I first went in but he isn't there just now. Father wasn't a bit disturbed, but I am. I got out of there. The mayor went into the office just as I came out.”

Uneasy, in spite of herself, Mary waited her husband's return. Ten o'clock, and he had not come. She went to the 'phone and called the office. The office man answered.

“Where is the doctor?”

“He was in here a few minutes ago, but there's a big fuss down at the smallpox tent and I think he's gone down there.”

Mary rang off and with nervous haste called the mayor's residence.

“Is this Mr. Felton?”

“Yes.”

“This is Mrs. Blank. I am very uneasy about the doctor, Mr. Felton. I hear he has just started down to the smallpox tent. Won't you please see that someone goes down at once?”

“Yes, Mrs. Blank. I came from there a little while ago but they're mad at the doctor and I'll go right back. I'm not going to bed until I know everything's quieted down.”

“And you'll take others with you?” she pleaded, but the mayor was gone. Again she waited in great anxiety. The tent was too far away for her to go out into the night in search of him.

Between eleven and twelve o'clock she heard footsteps. She rose and went to the door. Almost she expected to see her husband brought home on a stretcher. But there he came, walking with buoyant step. When he came in he kissed his anxious wife and then broke into a laugh.

“My! how good that sounds! I heard of the mob and have been frightened out of my wits.”

“They've quieted down now. There wasn't a bit of sense in what they did.”

“Well, I don't know that one can really blame them for not wanting smallpox brought into the neighborhood. Couldn't you have taken the tent farther out?”

“Yes, if we had had time. But we had a sick man on our hands – he had to be got out of the hotel and he had to be taken care of right away. He had to have a nurse. There must be water in the tent and the nurse can't be running out of a pest-house to get it. Neither can anyone carry it to such a place. So we couldn't put it beyond the water- and gas-pipes – there must be heat, too, you know. We have done the very best we could without more time. The nearest house is fifty yards away and there's absolutely no danger if the people down there will just get vaccinated and then keep away from the tent.”

“They surely will do that.”

“Some of them may. One fool said to me awhile ago when I told them that, ‘Oh, yes! we see your game. You want to get a lot of money out of us.’”

“What did you say to that ancient charge,” asked Mary, smiling.

“I said, ‘My man, I'll pay for the virus, and I'll vaccinate everyone of you, and everyone in that neighborhood and it won't cost you a cent’.”

“Did he look ashamed?”

“I didn't wait to see. I had urgent business out just then.”

“Is the patient in the tent now?”

“Yes, all snug and comfortable with a nurse to take care of him. That was my urgent business. I went into the back room of the office in the midst of their jabber, slipped out the door, got into the buggy hitched back there, drove to the hotel and with Dr. Collins' help, got the patient down the ladder waiting for us, into the buggy, then got the nurse down the ladder and in, too, then away we drove lickety-cut for the tent while the mob was away from there. Then I went back to the office and attended the meeting,” added the doctor, laughing heartily.

His wife laughed too, but rather uneasily. “Were they still there when you got back?”

“Every mother's son of 'em. They didn't stay long though. I advised them to go home, that the patient was in the tent and would stay there. They broke for the tent – vowed they'd set fire to it with him in it and I think they intended to hang me,” and the doctor laughed again.

“John, don't ever get into such a scrape again. I 'phoned Mr. Felton and begged him to go down there and take someone with him.”

“You did? Well, he came, and it happened there was a member of the State Board of Health in town who had got on to the racket. He came, too, and you ought to have heard him read the riot act to those fellows:

“‘We've got a sick man here – a stranger, far from his home. You are in no danger whatever. Every doctor in town has told you so. We're going to take care of this man and don't you forget it. We have the whole State of Illinois behind us, and if this damned foolishness don't stop right here, I'll have the militia here in a few hours' time and arrest every one of you.’ That quieted them. They slunk off home and won't bother us any more.”

Three or four days after the above conversation Mary stood at the window looking out at the storm which was raging. The wind was blowing fearfully and the rain coming down in torrents. “I do hope John will not be called to the country today,” she thought.

Ting-a-ling-ling-ling – three rings.

“Is this Dr. Blank's office?” asked a feminine voice.

“No, his residence.”

“Mrs. Blank, this is the nurse at the smallpox tent. Will you 'phone the office and tell the doctor it's raining in down here terribly. I'm in a hurry, must spread things over the patient.”

“Very well, I'll 'phone him,” and she rang twice. No reply. Again. No reply. “Too bad he isn't in. I'll have to wait a few minutes.”

In five minutes she rang again, but got no reply. In another minute she was called to the 'phone.

“Didn't you get word to the doctor, Mrs. Blank?” asked a voice, full of anxiety. “I'm afraid we'll drown before he gets here.”

“I have been anxiously watching for him, but he must be visiting a patient. Hold the 'phone please till I ring again.” This time her husband answered.

“Doctor, here's the nurse at the tent to speak to you.” She waited to hear what he would say.

“Doctor, please come down here and help us. The roof is leaking awfully and we are about to drown.”

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

“Don't wait too long.”

Mary's practised ear caught something beginning with a capital D as the receiver clicked.

“Poor old John,” she murmured, “it's awful – the things you have to do.”

The doctor got into his rubber coat and set out for his improvised pest-house.

When he came home Mary asked, “Did you stop the leak?”

“I did. But I had a devil of a time doing it.”

“I'm curious to know how you would go about it.”

“The roof was double and I had to straighten out and stretch the upper canvas with the wind blowing it out of my hands and nobody to help me hold it.”

“Was there nobody in sight?”

“That infernal coward of a watchman, but I couldn't get him near the tent – he's had smallpox, too.”

“I should think the nurse could have helped a little, that is if she knew where to take hold of it, and what to do with it when she got hold.”

“O, she sputtered around some and imagined she was helping.”

“Poor thing,” said Mary, laughing, “I know just how bewildered she was with you storming commands at her which she couldn't understand – women can't.”

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

The doctor helloed gruffly.

“Is this you, Doc?”

“Looks like it.”

“We want ye to come down here an' diagnosis these cases.”

“What cases!”

“There's two down here.”

“Down where?”

“Down here at my house.”

“Well, who the devil are you?”

“Bill Masters. We're afraid maybe it's smallpox.”

“Yes, yes!” snarled the doctor, “every pimple around here for the next three months will be smallpox.”

“Well, we want ye to diagnosis it, Doc.”

“All right. I'll ‘diagnosis’ it the first time I'm down that way – maybe this evening or tomorrow,” and he slammed the receiver up and went to bed.

One evening the doctor was waiting for the stork at a farmhouse some miles from home. He concluded to telephone his wife as it might be several hours before he got in. He rang and put the receiver to his ear:

“Did you put your washin' out today?”

“No, did you?”

“No, I thought it looked too rainy.”

“So did I. I hope it'll clear up by mornin'.”

“Have you got your baby to sleep yet?”

“Land! yes. He goes to sleep right after supper.”

“Mine's not that kind of a kid. He's wider awake than any of us this minute.”

“Got your dress cut out?”

“No, maybe I'll git around to it tomorrow afternoon, if I don't have forty other things to do.”

“Did ye hear about – ”

Seeing no chance to get in the doctor retreated. Half an hour later he rang again. A giggle and a loud girlish voice in his ear asking, “Is this you, Nettie?”

“This is me.”

“Do you know who this is?”

“Course I do.”

“Bet ye don't.”

“Bet I do.”

“Who?”

“It's Mollie, of course.”

“You've guessed it. I tried to change my voice so you wouldn't know me.”

“What fer?”

“Oh, cat-fur to make kitten breeches.”

Mild laughter.

“I heard that you gave Jake the mitten last night.”

“Who told ye?”

“Oh, a little bird.”

“Say! Who did tell ye?”

“You'll never, never tell if I do?”

The clock near the patiently waiting doctor struck nine quick short strokes.

“Did you hear that?” asked the first voice, startled.

“Whose clock is that?”

“Johnson's haven't got one like that.”

“Miller's haven't neither.”

“I'll tell you – it's Gray's – their clock strikes quick like that.”

“Then there's somebody at their 'phone listenin'!”

“Goodness! Maybe it's Jake, just like him!”

“Jake Gray, if that's you, you're a mean eavesdroppin' sneak an' that's what I think of you! Good-bye, Nettie.” And as the receiver slammed into its place the doctor shook with laughter.

“This seems to be my opportunity,” he thought, then rang and delivered the message to his wife. Often these dialogues kept him from hearing or delivering some important message and then he fumed inwardly, but tonight he had time to spare and to laugh.

After a little the 'phone rang. “It's someone wanting you, Doctor,” said the man of the house who answered it. The doctor went.

“Is this you, Doctor Blank?”

“Yes.”

“I want you – ”

The doctor heard no more. This was a party line and every receiver on it came down. A dozen people were listening to find out who wanted the doctor and what for. All on the line knew that Doctor Blank had been at the Gray farmhouse for hours. The message being private, there was silence. The doctor waited a minute then his wrath burst forth.

“Damn it! Hang up your receivers, all you eavesdroppers, so I can get this message!”

Click, click, click, click, and lots of people mad, but the doctor got the message.

Ting-a-ling-ling-ling.

“Is this Mrs. Blank?”

“Yes.”

“I telephoned the office and couldn't get the doctor so I'll tell you what I wanted and you can tell him. His patient down here in the country, Mrs. Miller, is out of powders and she wants him to send some down by Mrs. Richards, if he can find her.”

“Where is Mrs. Richards?”

“She's up there in town somewhere.”

“Does she know that the powders are to be sent by her and will she call at the office?”

“No, I don't think she knows anything about it. Mrs. Miller didn't know she was out till after she left. That's all,” and she was gone.

“All!” echoed Mary.

In a few minutes when she thought her husband had had time to return she went to the 'phone and told him he must go out and hunt up Mrs. Richards.

“What for?”

“Because Mrs. Miller wants you to find her and send some powders down by her.”

An explosion came and Mary retired laughing and marvelling to what strange uses telephones – and doctors – are put.

CHAPTER XII

It was a lovely morning in late September. The sun almost shone through the film of light gray clouds which lay serenely over all the heavens. There was a golden gleam in the atmosphere,

“And a tender touch upon everythingAs if Autumn remembered the days of Spring.”

The doctor and his wife were keenly alive to the beauty of the day. After they had driven several miles they stopped before a little brown house. The doctor said he would like Mary to go in and she followed him into the low-ceiled room.

“Here, you youngsters, go out into the yard,” said the mother of the children. “There ain't room to turn around when you all get in.” They went. A baby seven or eight months old sat on the floor and stared up at Mary as she seated herself near it. Two women of the neighborhood sat solemnly near by. The doctor approached the bed on which a young woman of eighteen or twenty years was lying.

“My heart hain't beat for five minutes,” she said.

“Is that so?” said the doctor, quite calm in the face of an announcement so startling. “Well, we'll have to start it up again.”