"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.
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