"And," she finished slowly, turning
her eyes toward the unconscious girl on the bed--"I do seem to be needed
here."
"And you understand there will be no--no fees in this case?" he asked.
The color mounted to her face. "Is our work always a question of fees,
Doctor? I am surprised, cannot I collect my bill when you receive yours?"
He held out his hand impulsively.
"Forgive me, Miss Farwell, but it is too good to be true. I can't say
any more now. You are needed here--you cannot know how badly. I--we all
need you." She gently released her hand, and he continued in a more
matter-of-fact tone, "I will go now to make a call or two so that I can
be with you later. Your patient will be all right for at least three
hours. I'll send Uncle George with your breakfast."
"Never mind the breakfast," she said. "If you will have your man bring
these things, I will get along nicely." She handed him a prescription
blank. "Here is a list that Mrs. Strong will give him from my room. And
here--" she gave him another blank, "is a list he may get at the grocery.
And here--" she handed him the third blank, "is a list he may get at some
dry goods store. I have not my purse with me so he will need to bring the
bills. The merchants will know him of course--" Dr. Harry looked from the
slips in his hand to the young woman.
"You must not do that, Miss Farwell. Really--"
She interrupted, "Doctor, this is my case, you know."
"It was mine first," he answered grimly.
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