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The Faith Doctor: A Story of New York, a novel by Edward Eggleston |
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Chapter 36. Mrs. Beswick |
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_ CHAPTER XXXVI. MRS. BESWICK About the time that Phillida got her flowers Mrs. Beswick sat mending her husband's threadbare overcoat. His vigorous thumbs, in frequent fastening and loosening, had worn the cloth quite through in the neighborhood of the buttons. To repair this, his wife had cut little bits of the fabric off the overplus of cloth at the seams, and worked these little pieces through the holes, and then sewed the cloth down upon them so as to underlay the thumb-worn places. The buttonholes had also frayed out, and these had to be reworked. "I declare, my love," she said, "you ought to have a new overcoat. This one is not decent enough for a man in your position to wear." "It'll have to do till warm weather," he said; "I couldn't buy another if I wanted to." "But you see, love, since Dr. Gunstone called you and sent a carriage for you, there's a chance for a better sort of practice, if we were only able to furnish the office a little better, and, above all, to get you a good overcoat. There, try that on and see how it looks." Dr. Beswick drew the overcoat on, and Mrs. Beswick gave herself the pleasure of buttoning it about his manly form, and of turning the doctor around as a Bowery shopkeeper does a sidewalk dummy, to try the effect, smoothing the coat with her hands the while. "That looks a good deal better, Mattie," he said. "Yes; but it's fraying a little at the cuffs, and when it gives away there darning and patching won't save it. There, don't, don't, love, please; I'm in a hurry." This last appeal was occasioned by the doctor's availing himself of her proximity to put his arm about her. "Annie Jackson got twenty-five dollars for nursing the Martin child. Now, if I'd only done that." "But you couldn't, Mattie. You're a doctor's wife, and you owe it to your position not to go out nursing." "I know. Never mind; your practice'll rise now that Dr. Gunstone has called you, and they sent a carriage with a coachman and a footman after you. That kind of thing makes an impression on the neighbors. I shouldn't wonder if you'd be able to keep your own carriage in a few years. I'm sure you've got as much ability as Dr. Gunstone, though you don't put on his stylish ways. But we must manage to get you a new overcoat before another winter. Take off the coat, quick." The last words were the result of a ring at the door. The doctor slipped quickly out of his overcoat, laughing, and then instantly assumed his meditative office face, while Mrs. Beswick opened the door. There stood a man in shirt-sleeves who had come to get the doctor to go to the dry dock to see a workman who was suffering from an attack of cart-pin in the hands of a friend with whom he had been discussing municipal politics. Fifteen minutes later Mrs. Beswick's wifely heart was gladdened by another ring. When she saw that the visitor was a fine-looking gentleman, scrupulously well-dressed, even to his gloves and cane, she felt that renown and wealth must be close at hand. "Is Dr. Beswick in?" demanded the caller. "He was called out in haste to see a patient, who--was--taken down very suddenly," she said; "but I expect him back every moment. Will you come in and wait?" "Can I see Mrs. Beswick?" said the stranger, entering. "I am Mrs. Beswick." "I am Mr. Millard. My aunt, Mrs. Martin, referred me to you. The occasion of my coming is this: Miss Callender, while caring for my little cousin, has caught diphtheria." "I'm so sorry. You mean the one they call the faith-doctor? She's such a sweet, ladylike person! She's been here to see the doctor. And you want Dr. Beswick to attend her?" "No; the family have called Dr. Gunstone, who has been their physician before." Mrs. Beswick was visibly disappointed. It seemed so long to wait until Dr. Beswick's transcendent ability should be recognized. She was tired of hearing of Gunstone. "I would like to send a good nurse to care for Miss Callender," said Millard, "since she got her sickness by attention to my little cousin. My aunt, Mrs. Martin, said that the nurse Dr. Beswick sent to her child was a friend of yours, I believe." "Yes; I was in the hospital with her. But you couldn't get Miss Jackson, who nursed the little Martin boy. She's going to take charge of a case next week. It's a first-rate case that will last all summer. You could find a good nurse by going to the New York Hospital." Millard looked hopeless. After a moment he said: "It wouldn't do. You see the family of Miss Callender wouldn't have me pay for a nurse if they knew about it. I thought I might get this Miss Jackson to go in as an acquaintance, having known Miss Callender at the Martins'. They needn't know that I pay her. Don't you think I could put somebody in her place, and get her?" "No; it's a long case, and it will give her a chance to go to the country, and the people have waited nearly a week to get her." "I suppose I'll have to give it up. Unless--unless--" Millard paused a moment. Then he said: "They say you are a trained nurse. If, now, I could coax you to go in as an acquaintance? You have met her, and you like her?" "Oh, ever so much! She's so good and friendly. But I don't think I could go. The doctor's only beginning, but his practice is improving fast, and his position, you know, might be affected by my going out to nurse again." But Mrs. Beswick looked a little excited, and Millard, making a hurried estimate of the Beswick financial condition from the few assets visible, concluded that the project was by no means hopeless. "I wouldn't ask you to go out as a paid nurse. You would go and tender your services as a friend," he said. "I'd feel like a wretch to be taking pay and pretending to do it all for kindness," said Mrs. Beswick, with a rueful laugh. "Indeed, it would be a kindness, Mrs. Beswick, and it might save a valuable life." "I don't know what to say till I consult the doctor," she said, dreaming of all the things she could do toward increasing the doctor's respectability if she had a little extra money. "I can not see that it would hurt his practice if managed in that way." "Indeed, it might help it," said Millard, seeing Mrs. Beswick's accessible point. "You'd make the friendship of people who are connected with the first families of the city, and you'd make the acquaintance of Dr. Gunstone, who would recognize you only as a friend of Miss Callender's." "I'll speak to the doctor. I'm sure I wouldn't do it for any one else. I couldn't stay away all the time, you know." "Stay whatever time you can, and it will give me pleasure to pay you at the highest rate, for the service is a very delicate one." "I'll feel like a liar," she said, with her head down, "pretending to do it all for nothing, though, indeed, I wouldn't go for anybody else." "Oh, do it for nothing. We'll have no bargain. I'll make you a present when you are done." "That'll be better," she said, though Millard himself could hardly see the difference. _ |
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