HOPE FARWELL'S MINISTRY
"Useful hands they were, made for real service."
After dinner was over and they had visited awhile, the Doctor introduced
Dan to his landlady across the way and, making some trivial excuse about
business, left the boy in his room. The fact is that the Doctor wished
to be alone. If he could have done it decently, he would have gone off
somewhere with his fishing tackle. As he could not go fishing, he did
the next best thing. He went to his office.
The streets were not so crowded now, for the people were at the ball
game, and the Doctor made his way down town without interruption. As he
went he tried to think out what it was that had come between him and the
boy whom he had known so intimately for so many years. Stopping at the
post office, he found a letter in his care addressed to "Rev. Daniel H.
Matthews." In his abstraction he was about to hand the letter in at the
window with the explanation that he knew no such person, when a voice at
his elbow said: "Is Brother Matthews fully rested from his tiresome
journey, Doctor?"
The Doctor's abstraction vanished instantly, he jammed that letter into
his pocket and faced the speaker.
"Yes," he growled, "I think Brother Matthews is fully rested. As he is
a grown man of unusual strength, and in perfect health of body at least,
and the tiresome journey was a trip of only four hours, in a comfortable
railway coach, I think I may say that he is fully recovered."
Then the Doctor slipped away. But he had discovered what it was that had
come between the boy and himself. The _man_, Dan Matthews, was no longer
the Doctor's boy. He was "Reverend," "Brother," the _preacher_. All the
morning it had been making itself felt, that something that sets
preachers apart. The Doctor wondered how his young hill-bred giant would
stand being coddled and petted and loved by the wives and mothers of men
who, for their daily bread, met the world bare-handed, and whose
hardships were accepted by them and by these same mothers and wives as a
matter of course.
By this time the Doctor had reached his office, and the sight of the
familiar old rooms that had been the scene of so many revelations of real
tragedies and genuine hardships, known only to the sufferer and to him
professionally, forced him to continue his thought.
"There was Dr. Harry, for instance. Who, beside his old negro
housekeeper, ever petted and coddled _him_? Who ever thought of setting
him apart? Whoever asked if he were rested from his tiresome
journey--journeys made not in comfortable coaches on the railroad, but
in his buggy over all kinds of roads, at all times of day or night, in
all sorts of weather winter and summer, rain and sleet and snow? Whoever
'Reverended' or 'Brothered' him? Oh no, he was only a man, a physician.
It was his business to kill himself trying to keep other people alive."
Dr. Harry Abbott had been first, the Doctor's assistant, then his
partner, and now at last his successor. Of a fine old Southern family,
his people had lost everything in the war when Harry was only a lad. The
father was killed in battle and the mother died a year later, leaving
the boy alone in the world. Thrown upon his own resources for the
necessities of life, he had managed somehow to live and to educate
himself, besides working his way through both preparatory and medical
schools, choosing his profession for love of it. He came to Dr. Oldham
from school, when the Doctor was beginning to feel the burden of his
large practice too heavily, and it was while he was the old physician's
assistant that the people learned to call him Dr. Harry. And Dr. Harry
he is to this day. How that boy has worked! His profession and his church
(for he is a member, a deacon now, in the Memorial Church) have occupied
every working minute of his life, and many hours beside that he should
have given to sleep.
As the months passed Dr. Oldham placed more and more responsibilities
upon him, and at the end of the second year took him into full
partnership. It was about this time that Dr. Harry bought the old Wilson
Carter place, and brought from his boyhood home two former slaves of his
father to keep house for him, Old Uncle George and his wife Mam Liz.
Every year the younger man took more and more of the load from his
partner's shoulders, until the older physician retired from active
practice; and never has there been a word but of confidence and
friendship between them. Their only difference is, that Harry will go to
prayer meeting, when the Doctor declares he should go to bed; and that
he will not go fishing. Always he has been the same courteous, kindly
gentleman, intent only upon his profession, keeping abreast of the new
things pertaining to his work, but ever considerate of the old Doctor's
whims and fancies. Even now that Dr. Oldham has stepped down and out
Harry insists that he leave his old desk in its place, and still talks
over his cases with him.
The Doctor was sitting in his dilapidated office chair thinking over all
this, when he heard his brother physician's step on the stairs. Harry
came in, dusty and worn, from a long ride in the country on an all-night
case. His tired face lit up when he saw his friend.
"Hello, Doctor! Glad to see you. Has he come? How is he?" While he was
speaking the physician dropped his case, slipped out of his coat, and
was in the lavatory burying his face in cold water by the time the other
was ready to answer. That was Harry, he was never in a hurry, never
seemed to move fast, but people never ceased to wonder at his quickness.
"He's all right," the Doctor muttered, his mind slipping back into the
channel that had started him off to thinking of his fellow physician.
"Got in on the ten-forty. But you look fagged enough. Why the devil don't
you rest, Harry?"
Standing in the doorway rubbing his face, neck, and chest, with a coarse
towel the young man laughed, "Rest, what would I do with a vacation? I'll
be all right, when I get outside of one of Mam Liz's dinners. It was that
baby of Jensen's that kept me. Poor little chap. I thought, two or three
times he was going to make a die of it sure, but I guess he'll pull
through now."
Dr. Oldham knew the Jensens well, eighteen miles over the worst roads in
the country. He growled hoarsely: "It'll be more years than there are
miles between here and Jensen's before you get a cent out of that case.
You're a fool for making the trip; why don't you let 'em get that old
bushwhacker at Salem, he's only three miles away?"
Harry pulled on his coat and dropped into his chair with a grin. "What'll
you give me to collect some of your old accounts, Doctor? The Jensens say
that the reason they have me is because you have always been their
physician."
Then the Doctor in characteristic language expressed his opinion of the
whole Jensen tribe, while Harry calmly glanced through some letters on
his desk.
"See here, Doctor," he exclaimed, wheeling around in his chair and
interrupting the old man's eloquent discourse. "Here is a letter from
Dr. Miles--says he is sending a nurse; just what we want." He tossed the
letter to the other. "There'll be the deuce to pay at Judge Strong's
when she arrives. Whew! I guess I better trot over home and get a bite
and forty winks. A Jensen breakfast, as you may remember, isn't just the
most staying thing for a civilized stomach, and I need to be fit when I
call at the Strong mansion. Wonder when the nurse will get here."
"She's here now," said the old Doctor, and he then told him about the
meeting at the depot and the fight on the street. "But go on and get your
nap," he finished. "I'll look after her."
Harry had just taken his hat when there came a knock on the door leading
into the little waiting room. He hung his hat back in the closet, and
dropped into his chair again with a comical expression of resignation on
his face. But his voice was cheerful, when he said: "Come in."
The door opened. The young lady of the depot entered. The old physician
took a good look at her this time. He saw a girl of fine, strong form and
good height, with clear skin, showing perfect health, large, gray
eyes--serious enough, but with a laugh back of all their seriousness,
brown hair, firm, rounded chin and a generous sensitive mouth.
Particularly he noticed her hands--beautifully modeled, useful hands
they were, made for real service. Altogether she gave him the impression
of being very much alive, and very much a woman.
"Is this Dr. Abbott?" she asked, looking at Harry, who had risen from
his chair. When she spoke the old man again noted her voice, it was low
and clear.
"I am Dr. Abbott," replied Harry.
"I am Hope Farwell," she answered. "Dr. Miles, you know, asked me to
come. You wanted a nurse for a special case, I believe."
"Oh, yes," exclaimed Harry, "we have the letter here. We were just
speaking of you, Miss Farwell. This is Dr. Oldham; perhaps Dr. Miles
told you of him."
She turned with a smile, "Yes indeed, Dr. Miles told me. I believe we
have met before, Doctor."
The girl broke into a merry laugh, when the old man answered, gruffly: "I
should think we had. I was just telling Harry there when you came in."
Then the younger physician asked, "How soon can you be ready to go on
this case, Nurse?"
She looked at him with a faint expression of surprise. "Why I'm ready
now, Doctor."
And the old Doctor broke in so savagely that they both looked at him in
astonishment as he said: "But this is a hard case. You'll be up most of
the night. You're tired out from your trip."
"Why, Doctor," said the young woman, "it is my business to be ready at
any time. Being up nights is part of my profession. Surely you know
that. Besides, that trip was really a good rest, the first good rest
I've had for a long time."
"I know, of course," he answered. "I was thinking of something else. You
must pardon me, Miss. Harry there will explain that I am subject to these
little attacks."
"Oh, I know already," she returned smiling. "Dr. Miles told me all about
you." And there was something in her laughing gray eyes that made the
rough old man wonder just what it was that his friend Miles had told her.
"All right, get back to business you two," he growled. "I'll not
interrupt again. Tell her about the case, Harry."
The young woman's face was serious in a moment, and she gave the
physician the most careful attention as he explained the case for which
he had written Dr. Miles to send a trained nurse of certain
qualifications.
The Judge Strong of this story is an only son of the old Judge who moved
Corinth. He is a large man--physically, as large as the Doctor, but where
the Doctor is fat the Judge is lean. He inherited, not only his father's
title (a purely honorary one) but his father's property, his position as
an Elder in the church, and his general disposition; together with his
taste and skill in collecting mortgages and acquiring real estate. The
old Judge had but the one child. The Judge of this story, though just
passing middle age, has no children at all. Seemingly there is no room in
his heart for more than his church and his properties--his mind being
thus wholly occupied with titles to heaven and to earth. With Sapphira,
his wife, he lives in a big house on Strong Avenue, beyond the Strong
Memorial Church, with never so much as a pet dog or cat to roughen the
well-kept lawn or romp, perchance, in the garden. The patient whom Miss
Farwell had come to nurse, was Sapphira's sister, a widow with neither
child nor home. The Judge had been forced by his fear of public sentiment
to give her shelter, and he had been compelled by Dr. Oldham and Dr.
Harry to employ a nurse. The case would not be a pleasant one; Miss
Farwell would need all that abundant stock of tact and patience which Dr.
Miles had declared she possessed.
All this Dr. Harry explained to her, and when he had finished she asked
in the most matter-of-fact tone: "And what are your instructions,
Doctor?"
That caught Harry. It caught the old Doctor, too. Not even a comment on
the disagreeable position she knew she would have in the Strong
household, for Harry had not slighted the hard facts! She understood
clearly what she was going into.
A light came into the young physician's eyes that his old friend liked
to see. "I guess Miles knew what he was talking about in his letter,"
said the old Doctor. And the young woman's face flushed warmly at his
words and look.
Then in his professional tones Dr. Harry instructed her more fully as to
the patient's condition--a nervous trouble greatly aggravated by the
Judge's disposition.
"Nice job, isn't it, Miss Farwell?" Harry finished.
She smiled. "When do I go on, Doctor?"
Harry stepped to the telephone and called up the Strong mansion. "This
you, Judge?" he said into the instrument. "The nurse from Chicago is
here; came today. We want her to go on the case at once. Can you send
your man to the depot for her trunk?"
By the look on his face the old Doctor knew what Harry was getting. The
younger physician's jaw was set and his eyes were blazing, but his voice
was calm and easy. "But Judge, you remember the agreement. Dr. Oldham is
here now if you wish to speak to him. We shall hold you to the exact
letter of your bargain, Judge. I am very sorry but--. Very well sir. I
will be at your home with the nurse in a few moments. Please have a room
ready. And by the way, Judge, I must tell you again that my patient is in
a serious condition. I warn you that we will hold you responsible if
anything happens to interfere with our arrangements for her treatment.
Good-bye."
He turned to the nurse with a wry face. "It's pretty bad, Miss Farwell."
Then, ringing up the village drayman, he arranged to have the young
woman's trunk taken to the house. When the man had called for the checks
Harry said: "Now, Nurse, my buggy is here, and if you are ready I guess
we had better follow your trunk pretty closely."
From the window the old Doctor watched them get into the buggy,
and drive off down the street. Mechanically he opened the letter
from Dr. Miles, which he still held in his hand. "An ideal nurse, who
has taken up the work for love of it,--have known the family for
years--thoroughbreds--just the kind to send a Kentuckian like you--I
warn you look out,--I want her back again."
The Doctor chuckled when he remembered Harry's look as he talked to the
young woman. "If ever a man needed a wife Harry does," he thought. "Who
knows what might happen?"
Who knows, indeed?
Then the Doctor went home to Dan. He found him in Denny's garden, with
Denny enthroned on the big rock--listening to his fun, while Deborah,
from the house, looked on, unable to believe that it was "the parson
sure enough out there wid Denny,"--Denny who was to have been a priest
himself one day, but who would never now be good for much of anything.