Arthur Stanwood Pier

“ MR. WITHERSPOON entered Dr. Blakeley's office. It was unoccupied: on a slate hanging by the door was written: "Back at eleven." It was five minutes of eleven. Mr. Witherspoon stepped over to the table to pick up a magazine and saw, spread on top, a bill from L. Kramer, provision merchant, to Dr. R. Blakeley for twenty-five dollars and fifteen cents, and below, written in red ink: "Pay this at once."
Mr. Witherspoon retired to a chair with a magazine and an opinion of Kramer.
He remembered now that Blakeley was in arrears on the rent. "He must be hard up, poor devil," thought Mr. Witherspoon. ”

“ Blakeley sighed inwardly, thinking of the hundred dollars that he owed on the rent, and the fifty dollars that he had in the bank, and the Kramer bill that was in his pocket.
"I am seventy-three years of age," said Mr. Witherspoon impressively, "and I have never been under a doctor's care for a day. I find, however, that the time has come when I must consult a physician. You seem to be one who is competent: you inspire me with confidence. ”

“ I rode my bicycle."
"That all you have to get round on! Covering the distances you have to out here, you ought to have an automobile."
"It would be a convenience," admitted Blakeley.
"It's a good four miles from here to town," continued Mr. Witherspoon. "Look here. When I want you at night, I want you quick and I want you bad. You buy yourself an automobile to-morrow. I'll lend you the money."
"You're very generous, but I couldn't do it. Why, Mr. Witherspoon, I don't know-when I could ever repay the loan. I—you know it's quite a struggle to keep even on the rent." ”

“ I expect to be hurt, but I'll be game."
His cowardly agitation was so apparent that it intensified Blakeley's scorn. He turned his back on the man and followed Dr. Deever upstairs.
In the room where the operation was to take place, Blakeley cast off his human prejudices and became the surgeon with an impersonal view of the human objects before him. Through his mind passed a swift résumé of that former operation in which he had taken part; he was unaware of the abject, quivering Kramer, the piteous mother, the attentive old doctor. The preparations were made, the work began. ”

“ Besides being the leading citizen, he was eccentric; he declared always a lively antipathy to doctors, and yet had as his most intimate friend Dr. Jacob Deever, with whom he engaged once a week in a game of chess. These occasions afforded him opportunity to rail at the medical profession. The doctor would retort that Ezra was a tough old nut, but that he would go to pieces some day, and that he was just the kind to fly to patent-medicines for relief.
"You needed a wife to keep you from getting so cranky, Ezra," Dr. ”

“ Wood told me that was one of his eccentricities."
"I guess that maybe he never felt sick before." said Richard complacently. "Anyway he came to me for medicine, and said that as he was rich and his life was valuable he wanted to be charged at the rate of five dollars a visit instead of two dollars."
"Mow wonderful! And he never asked you for the rent at all?"
"No."
"I do wish there were some way of spreading it round town that you've had Mr. Witherspoon for a patient. He has so much influence. People would he sure to follow his lead." ”

“ Mrs. Kramer's a good woman, and I don't like to see a human life go out if there's a way of saving it. Here I think there's just that one way."
"Go ahead. Telegraph for Carter."
The resentment on the doctor's face cleared: gratitude shone there.
"Thank you. Ezra. I'd rather telephone. If you'll allow me, I'll do it now."
The effort was unsuccessful. Dr. Carter was reported to be attending a convention in the North; he would be away for a week.
"Can't you wait a week?" asked Mr. Witherspoon.
"The child will be dead in three days."
"Why don't yon call in Dr. Blakeley?" ”

“ Baby dying of anemia. It's possible transfusion of blood might save it. It's a rare and delicate operation, as you may know: in fact, there's only one man in this part of the country who has performed it, and that's Carter over at Sonia."
"People poor?" asked Mr. Witherspoon.
"Not poor exactly, but they can't quite meet Carter's price. It's Kramer, the provision man." ”

“ Witherspoon. "Sometimes I have a pain here." He placed his hand on his stomach. "I seem to be more short of breath than I ought to be. I lie awake at night a good deal. Frequent pains in the head and back. Sometimes a difficulty in taking a long breath. Occasionally an agitation of the heart."
He paused. Blakeley looked perplexed.
"What was the immediate cause which made you feel that you must consult a doctor this morning?"
"Pain," prevaricated Mr. Witherspoon. "A sharp pain here." ”

“ When he had comfortably bolstered himself up in bed with a lighted cigar in his mouth, he dismissed Matsu and took up the volume of "Tom Jones" which was his favorite bedtime reading. Soon he forgot that the mocking-birds were singing, that he was sick, that the doctor was coming; he snorted once or twice in thorough enjoyment, let his cigar go out. paused to light it again—and then be heard the peal of the door-bell.
When Richard Blakeley came out on the screened porch he found Mr. Witherspoon finishing his cigar.
"You must be better," he said. ”

“ The longest-living author of this work died in 1966, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 57 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works. ”