THE YOUNG DOCTOR.
The fact that he had obtained a place gave Sam a new sense of
importance. Having drifted about the city streets for six months,
never knowing in the morning where his meals were to come from during
the day, or whether he was to have any, it was pleasant to think that
he was to have regular wages. He presented himself in good season the
next morning.
He was waiting outside when the doctor arrived.
"So you are on hand," said Dr. Graham.
"Yes, sir."
"By the way, what is your name?"
"Sam Barker."
"Very well, Sam, come upstairs with me."
Sam followed the doctor to his office.
The doctor surveyed his young assistant with critical eyes.
"Where do you buy your clothes?" he asked.
"I haven't bought any," said Sam. "I brought these from the country."
"They seem to be considerably the worse for wear. In fact, your
appearance doesn't do credit to my establishment."
"I do look rather ragged," said Sam; "but I haven't got enough money
to buy any new clothes."
"I have a son two years older than you. He may have some old clothes
that would suit you. I'll have a bundle made up, and brought down to
the office to-morrow."
"Thank you, sir," said Sam.
The doctor kept his promise, and the next day our hero was enabled to
throw aside his rags, and attire himself in a neat gray suit, which
considerably improved his outward appearance.
"Now," said the doctor, "I would suggest that a little more attention
to washing would be of advantage to you."
"All right, sir; I'll remember."
Sam scrubbed himself to a considerable degree of cleanness, and combed
his hair. The ultimate result was a very creditable-looking office
boy.
"Now," said the doctor, "I expect you to be faithful to my
interests."
Sam readily promised this. Already he formed glowing anticipations of
learning the business, and succeeding the doctor; or, at any rate,
being admitted to partnership at some future day.
Several weeks passed by. Considering his previous course of life, Sam
acquitted himself very well. He opened the office in the morning,
swept it out, and got it in order before the doctor arrived. During
the day he ran on errands, distributed circulars, in fact made himself
generally useful. The doctor was rather irregular in coming in the
morning, so that Sam was sometimes obliged to wait for him two or
three hours. One morning, when sitting at his ease reading the morning
paper, he was aroused by a knock at the door.
He rose and opened it.
"Is the doctor in?" asked a young man of Irish extraction.
"Hasn't come yet," said Sam. "Would you like to see him?"
"I would thin. He's the man that cures corns, isn't he?"
"Yes," said Sam. "He's the best corn-doctor in the city."
"Thin I've come to the right place, sure."
"Have you got one?"
"I've got a murtherin' big one. It almost kills me."
"Step in and wait for the doctor. He'll be in soon."
"I'm in a great hurry," said the young man. "It's porter I am in a
store down town, and I can't stay long. How much does the doctor
charge?"
"A dollar for each corn."
"O murder! does he now?"
"Isn't it worth that?"
"It's a mighty big price to pay."
"You see," said Sam, "he's a famous doctor; that's why he charges so
much."
"I don't care for that at all. I'm a poor man, and it's hard on me
payin' that much."
Here an idea struck Sam. He had often witnessed the doctor's
operations, and to his inexperienced mind they seemed easy enough to
perform. Why couldn't he operate a little on his own account before
the doctor came? By so doing he would make a little money, and if
successful he would have a future source of revenue, as patients often
came when he was alone.
"I'm the doctor's assistant," he commenced.
"Are you now? So you're the young doctor?"
"Yes," said Sam.
"Then it's a mighty young doctor ye are."
"I know it," said Sam. "I've learnt the trade of Dr. Graham."
"Do you work at it much?" asked the patient.
"Yes," said Sam, "when the doctor's away. I aint as good as he is,"
he admitted candidly, "and that is why I work cheaper."
"You work cheaper, do yer?"
"Yes," said Sam. "I only charge half price."
"That's fifty cents."
"Yes."
"And do you think you could cure me?"
"Of course I could," said Sam, confidently.
"Then go ahead," said the Irishman, in a fit of reckless confidence
which he was destined to repent.
"Sit down there," said Sam, pointing out the patient's chair.
The patient obeyed.
"Now take off your boots. You don't think I can cut through the boot,
do you?"
He was obeyed.
Sam began to fumble among the sharp instruments.
"What are you goin to do?" asked the patient, rather alarmed.
"Oh, don't be afraid," said Sam. "You won't feel it."
"Won't feel the knife?"
"No, I'm goin to put on some liquid that'll take away the feeling."
"Shure you ought to know," said the patient, his confidence
returning.
"Of course I do," said Sam.
"Now sit still."
[Illustration of Sam and his Patient.]
Thus far Sam was perfectly self-possessed. He went about his
preparations with an air that imposed upon the patient. But the
difficulty was to come.
Things which look easy often are found difficult when attempted. When
Sam began to wield the doctor's instruments he did so awkwardly. He
lacked that delicacy of touch which can only be acquired by practice,
and the result was tragical. The knife slipped, inflicting a deep
gash, and causing a quick flow of blood.
"Oh, murder, I'm kilt!" exclaimed the terrified patient, bounding to
his feet, and rushing frantically round the room. "I'm bladin' to
death."
Sam was almost equally frightened. He stood, with the knife in his
hand, panic-stricken.
"I'll have you up for murder, I will!" shouted Mr. Dennis O'Brien,
clutching the wounded member. "Oh, why did I ever come to a boy
doctor? Oh, whirra, whirra!"
"I didn't mean to do it," said Sam, frightened.
"You'll be hanged for killin' me, bad 'cess to you. Go for a doctor,
quick."
Almost out of his wits Sam was about to obey, when as he opened the
door he confronted his employer. Under ordinary circumstances he would
have been sorry to have him come in so soon. Now he was glad.
"What's the meaning of all this?" asked Dr. Graham, surveying with
astonishment the Irishman prancing around the office, and Sam's scared
face.
"He's kilt me, doctor," said Dennis, groaning.
"He? Who?"
"The young doctor, shure."
"Who's he?"
"That's the one," said Mr. O'Brien, pointing to Sam. "He's cut my toe
off, and I'm bladin' to death."
"What does this mean, Sam?" said the doctor, sternly.
"He was in a hurry," stammered Sam, "and I didn't want him to go away,
so I thought I'd try to cure him, but the knife slipped, and--"
"I'll attend to your case afterwards. Sit down, sir."
"Will I die?" asked Dennis, lugubriously.
"No danger, now. You might, if I hadn't come just as I did."
Matters were soon remedied, and Dennis went away relieved, well
satisfied because the doctor declined, under the circumstances, to
receive any fee.
"Now, Sam," said the doctor, after he had gone, "what do you mean by
such work as this?"
"I thought I could do it," said Sam, abashed.
"I ought to turn you away for this."
"It was only a mistake," said Sam.
"It came near being a very serious mistake. What would you have done
if I had not come just as I did?"
"I don't know," said Sam.
"Never touch my instruments again. If you do I shall discharge you at
once; that is, after giving you a sound flogging."
Sam felt that he had got off easily, and determined not to set up
again as doctor on his own account.