The Doctor Part 8

The boy's rugged face changed. A tender light fell over it, filling in its cracks and canyons.

"Because--well, because d.i.c.k must go through. d.i.c.k's clever. He's awful clever." Pride mingled with the tenderness in look and tone. "Mother wants him to be a minister, and," he added after a pause, "I do, too."

The old doctor turned from him, stood looking out of the window a few minutes, and then came back. He put his hands on the boy's shoulders. "I understand, boy," he said, his great voice vibrating in deep and tender tones, "I, too, had a brother once. Make d.i.c.k a minister if you want, but meantime we'll grind the surgeon's knife."

The boy went home to his mother in high exultation.

"The doctor wants me to look after Ben for him," he announced. "He is going to show me the dressings, and he says all he wants is cleanliness, good cheer, and good food. I can keep him clean. But how he is to get good cheer in that house, and how he is to get good food, are more than I can tell."

"Good cheer!" cried d.i.c.k. "He'll not lack for company. How many has she now, mother? A couple of dozen, more or less?"

"There are thirteen of them already, poor thing."

"Thirteen! That's an unlucky stopping place. Let us hope she won't allow the figure to remain at that."

"Indeed, I am thinking it will not," said his mother, speaking with the confidence of intimate knowledge.

"Well," replied d.i.c.k, with a judicial air, "it's a question whether it's worse to defy the fate that lurks in that unlucky number, or to accept the doubtful blessing of another twig to the already overburdened olive tree."

"Ay, it is a hard time she is having with the four babies and all."

"Four, mother! Surely that's an unusual number even for the prolific Mrs. Fallows!"

"Whisht, laddie!" said his mother, in a shocked tone, "don't talk foolishly."

"But you said four, mother."

"Twins the last twice," interjected Barney.

"Great snakes!" cried d.i.c.k, "let us hope she won't get the habit."

"But, mother," inquired Barney seriously, "what's to be done?"

"Indeed, I can't tell," said his mother.

"Listen to me," cried d.i.c.k, "I've got an inspiration. I'll undertake the 'good cheer.' I'll impress the young ladies into this worthy service.

Light conversation and song. And you can put up the food, mother, can't you?"

"We will see," said the mother quietly; "we will do our best."

"In that case the 'food department' is secure," said d.i.c.k; "already I see Ben Fallows making rapid strides toward convalescence."

It was characteristic of Barney that within a few days he had all three departments in full operation. With great tact he succeeded in making Mrs. Fallows thoroughly scour the woodwork and whitewash the walls in Ben's little room, urging the doctor's orders and emphasizing the danger of microbes, the dread of which was just beginning to obtain in popular imagination.

"Microbes? What's them?" inquired Mrs. Fallows, suspiciously.

"Very small insects."

"Insects? Is it bugs you mean?" Mrs. Fallows at once became fiercely hostile. "I want to tell yeh, young sir, ther' hain't no bugs in this 'ouse. If ther's one thing I'm pertickler 'bout, it's bugs. John sez to me, sez 'e, 'What's the hodds of a bug or two, Hianthy?' But I sez to 'im, sez I, 'No bugs fer me, John. I hain't been brought up with bugs, an' bugs I cawn't an' won't 'ave.'"

It was only Barney's earnest a.s.surance that the presence of microbes was no impeachment of the most scrupulous housekeeping and, indeed, that these mysterious creatures were to be found in the very highest circles, that Mrs. Fallows was finally appeased. With equal skill he inaugurated his "good food" department, soothing Mrs. Fallows' susceptibilities with the diplomatic information that in surgical cases such as Ben's certain articles of diet specially prepared were necessary to the best results.

Not the least successful part of the treatment prescribed was that furnished by the "good cheer" department. This was left entirely in d.i.c.k's charge, and he threw himself into its direction with the enthusiasm of a devotee. Iola with her guitar was undoubtedly his mainstay. But d.i.c.k was never quite satisfied unless he could persuade Margaret, too, to a.s.sist in his department. But Margaret had other duties, and, besides, she had a.s.sociated herself more particularly with Mrs. Boyle in the work of supplementing Mrs. Fallows' somewhat unappetising though entirely substantial meals with delicacies more suited to the sickroom. d.i.c.k, however, insisted that with all that Iola and himself in the "good cheer" department and Barney in what he called the "scavenging" department could achieve, there was still need of Margaret's presence and Margaret's touch. Hence, before the busy harvest time came upon them, he made a practice of calling at the manse, and, relieving her of the duty of getting to sleep little five-year-old Tom, with whom he was first favourite, he would carry her off to the Fallows household, whither Barney and Iola had preceded them.

Altogether the "young doctor," as Ben called him, had reason to be proud of the success he was achieving with his first patient. The amputation healed over and the bone knit at the first intention, and in a few weeks Ben was far on the way to convalescence. He was never weary in his praises of the "young doctor." It was the "young doctor" who, by changing the bandages, had eased him of the intolerable pain which followed the first dressing. It was the "young doctor" who had changed the splints, shaping them cunningly to fit the limb, bringing ease where there had been chafing pain.

"Let 'em 'ave the old doctor if they want," was Ben's final conclusion, "but fer me, the young doctor, sez I."

VII

THE GOOD CHEER DEPARTMENT

The "good cheer" department, while ostensibly for Ben's benefit, wrought profit and cheer for others besides. What d.i.c.k got of it no one but himself knew, for that young man, with all his apparent frankness, kept the veil over his heart drawn close. To Barney, absorbed in his new work, with its wealth of new ideas and his new ambitions, the "good cheer" department was chiefly valued as an important factor in Ben's progress. To Iola it brought what to her was the breath of life, admiration, grat.i.tude, affection. But Margaret perhaps more than any, not even excepting Ben himself, gathered from this department what might be called its by-products. The daily monotony of her household duties bore hard upon her young heart. Ambitions long cherished, though cheerfully laid aside at the sudden call of duty, could not be quite abandoned without a sense of pain and loss. The break offered by the work of the department in the monotony of her life, the companionship of its members, and, as much as anything, the irresistible appeal to her keen sense of humour by the genial, loquacious, dirty but irresistibly cheery Mrs. Fallows, far more than compensated for the extra effort which her membership in the department rendered necessary.

It was the evening following that of the school closing that d.i.c.k with Margaret and Iola were making one of their customary calls at the Fallows cottage. It would be for Iola the last visit for some weeks, as she was about to depart to town for her holidays.

"I have come to say good-bye," she announced as she shook hands with Mrs. Fallows.

"Good-bye, dear 'eart," said that lady, throwing up her hands aghast; "art goin' to leave us fer good?"

"No, nothing so bad," said d.i.c.k; "only for a few weeks, Mrs. Fallows.

The section couldn't do without her, and the trustees have decided that they wouldn't let her out of sight till they had put a string on her."

"Goin' to come back again, be yeh? I did 'ear as 'ow yeh was goin' to leave. My little Joe was that broken-'earted, an' 'e declared to me as 'ow 'e wouldn't go to school no more."

"I don't wonder," said d.i.c.k. "Why, if the trustees hadn't engaged her, as 'Maine Jabe' said, 'there'd be the dangdest kind of riot in the section.'"

"Don't listen to him, Mrs. Fallows. I'm going in to sing to Ben, if I may."

"An' that yeh may, bless yer 'eart!" said Mrs. Fallows, picking up a twin from the doorway to allow Iola and d.i.c.k to pa.s.s into the inner room. "Ther' now," she continued to Margaret, who was moving about putting things to rights, "don't yeh go tirin' of yerself. I know things is in a muss. Some'ow by Sat.u.r.day night things piles up terr'ble, an'

I'm that tired I don't seem to 'ave no 'eart to straighten 'em up. Jest look at that 'ouse! I sez to John, sez I, 'I cawn't do no 'ousekeepin'

with all 'em children 'bout my feet. An', bless their 'earts! it's all I kin do to put the bread in their mouths an keep the rags on their backs.' But John sez to me, sez 'e, 'Don't yeh worry, la.s.s, 'bout the rags. Keep 'em full,' sez 'e, 'a full belly never 'eeds a bare back,'

sez 'e. That's 'is way. 'E's halways a-comin' over somethin' cleverlike, is John. Lard save us! will yeh listen to that, now!" she continued in an awestruck undertone, as Iola's voice came in full rich melody from the next room. "An' Ben is fair raptured with 'er. Poor Benny! it's a sore calamity 'as overtaken 'im, a-breakin' of 'is leg an' a-mutilatin'

of 'isself. It does seem as if the Lard 'ad give me som'at more'n my share. Listen to that ther'. Bless 'er dear 'eart; Benny fergits 'is hamputation an' 'is splits."

"His splints," cried Margaret; "are they all right now?"

"Yes. Since the young doctor--that's w'at Benny calls 'im--change 'em. Oh, that's a clever young man! Benney, 'e sez, 'Give me the young doctor,' sez 'e. Yeh see," continued Mrs. Fallows confidentially, and again lowering her voice impressively, "yeh see, 'is leg 'urt most orful at first, an' Benny cried to me, 'It's in me toes, mother, it's in me toes.' 'Why, Benny,' sez I to 'im, 'yeh hain't got no toes, Benny.'

'That's w'ere it 'urts,' sez 'e, 'toes or no toes.' An' father 'e wakes right up an' 'erd w'at Benny was cryin', an' sez 'e, 'Benny's right enough. 'Is toes'll 'urt till they're rotted away in the ground.' An' 'e tells as 'ow 'is sister's holdest boy got 'is leg hamputated, poor soul!

an' 'ow 'is toes 'urted till they was took an' buried an' rotted away.

Some doctors don't bury 'em, an' they do say," and here Mrs. Fallows'

voice dropped quite to a whisper, "as 'ow that keeps 'em sore all the longer. Well, jest as father was speakin' in comes the doctor 'isself, an' father 'e told 'im as 'ow Benny was feelin' the pain in 'is toes.

'In yer toes, Benny?' sez the doctor surprised-like. 'Tain't yer toes, Ben.' 'Well, I guess it's me as is doin' the feelin',' sez Ben quite sharp, 'an' it's in me toes the feelin' is.' Then father 'e spoke up.

'E's a terr'ble man fer hargument, is father. 'Doctor,' sez 'e, 'is them toes buried, if I might be so bold?' 'Cawn't say,' sez the doctor quite hindifferent, though 'e must 'a' knowed. 'Well, my opinion is,' sez father, "e'll feel them toes till they're took an' buried an'

rotted away in the ground.' An' then 'e tells 'bout 'is sister's boy.