The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 31 August 1911, Page 1667

The Storyteller

THE DOCTOR'S FEE My dear Edith:. The kindness of your little letter takes out the sting of charity. This means that your letter is very kind; for I am still the overproud woman that you knew. Do you remember that some of the girls called me ' Miss Stuck Up' ? I am more stuck up now that I have come down to clerking for my living and my little Harry's. Thank you, dear girl; and thank you again for giving so nicely. I can see that little tight-mouthed smile of yours when you wrote, and that flicker of your eyelashes as you thought, 'My poor old Elsa!' And you wished that you were rich enough to have us out to Las Palmas, didn't you Bless you, dear! . Well, Edie, I didn't buy myself the Christmas present that—for the first time, and after hearing of my struggles—-you found it so difficult to select in Las Palmas. I have added your gold pieces to one that I have scraped together to take Harry to a throat specialist. You know how I have worried over his huskiness. It is to be Dr. Alfred Harding, of Fiftyninth street. I wrote to the secretary of a big hospital, and he kindly recommended him as not only a great specialist but a great general physician. I pray to God that it may be all right with my little fellow"! ' The only son of his mother, and she a widow!' I cannot have the joy of sending presents; but I have painted you, and your good husband, and your boy and girl, a little card apiece. God bless you, Dear! Out of my old world your friendship is the one thing left. Thank you, and thank you! Your grateful friend, ELSA MARCHANT. My dear Edith: We went to the specialist yesterday. So long as I live I shall remember the agony of the twenty minutes in his waiting room. Harry busied himself with the illustrated papers, and laughed and ran about and showed me the pictures. ' Why do you kiss me so much times, Mummy V I could hardly speak when I entered the consulting room. The physician was a grave, good-looking, dark man, a little over forty, I should think, square and strong and reassuring. Some of my terror seemed to go as soon as he spoke to me. I sat beside his table, with Harry on my knee, and he asked me a string of questions, and jotted down the answers with a brevity that shamed my verbosity. To my surprise he began with questions about myself—' name, age, address, means, occupation, general health, etc. 'I like to know my patients' circumstances,' he explained. 'lt affects what one suggests sometimes.' ' Yes,' I said, ' I understand. My means are very limited; but I have a few little pieces of jewellery that I'll sell, if he needs what I cannot afford.' 'Do you know,' he said, with a pleasant smile, 'I could almost have guessed that! Now let's see what I can make of young hopeful. How old are you Harry J * And then he went off with a string of questions about the boy— age, his appetite, his companions, his amusements, his ideas and fancies, his father, his father's family and mine. Afterward he made 'him run, jump, and talk and sing and then he took off his little coat and vest and prodded him— gently -and kindly— sounded him all over and examined him. It seemed as if he would never come to the throat' and when he did he merely touched it in a few places* and then looked down it for a second or two. < t There , is nothing wrong there,' he said at once. In fact, there is nothing functionally wrong at all He is rather delicate; but, under favorable conditions" he should outgrow his delicacy and make a fine man' The trouble is merely depression. You see, you have to go out all day to earn your living, and he misses you. I think I should try to find apartments in a house where there are other children/ and send him to school, if you can. He is a sociable little chap and

needs companionship. For the rest, I will write down some diet that is suitable for him and not too expensive. You clothe him very comfortably and nicely, I notice. I need not write anything about that. He has one thing very much in his favor—his mother.’ The doctor’s kindness seemed to break me down, and I began to cry. I was very strung up, as you may imagine. ‘ I play, with him all the time lam at home,’ I said.

‘Yes, yes!’ The doctor gave me a pat on the shoulder. ‘ I am sure.’

He wrote down about the foods and treatment, and folded up the paper and put it into an envelope and handed it to me.

Do you know,’ he said, ‘I wish you’d bring the little chap again in a few weeks. I don’t mean that I suspect anything wrong. It is only to know how he gets on. I shall need to see him only for a few minutes; just a friendly visit, not to reckon as a consultation.’

‘ Thank you very much/ I said. ‘ Your kindness has comforted me greatly. I will bring him.’ I put my ten dollars on the table. He simply laughed at me. ‘ Now, Mrs. Marchant,’ he protested, ‘try to put yourself in my place —as a crusty old bachelor, who can’t spend a quarter of his income. Do you think I should like spending that money of yours? Save me from the distress of taking it. I ask you as a favor. Now, don’t be a silly woman I had begun to cry again.’ ' ‘ Carry it for Mummy; old chap. Ladies never have proper pockets, like we men have.' He put the coins in Harry’s pocket; and when I tried to object he almost bundled us out of the room. ‘ Write or telephone when you’ll come again,’ he said; ‘ and pay particular attention to the last direction on my list. It is the most important of all, and the one that I trust you least in, Mrs. Marchant. Goodbye, and be sure you come again. Write or telephone when it’s convenient.’

When we arrived home and I read the directions, the last one was this:

‘ Take great care of his mother, and do not let her overdo self-sacrifice. Her health and good spirits are essential to him.’

What a good man ! What a very good man ! . Harry received a Noah’s Ark and a drawing slate by express early this morning. Of course they came from the doctor, and I am writing and thanking him. My pride advised me to enclose the fee but my respect for him would not allow me to do so. I felt that it would hurt him, and I told him how I felt.

This letter is all about Harry and me; but you will understand how I feel. Do you know, I waltzed round the room by myself after Harry had gone to bed ! Our dancing days were good, Edie but living for a little boy who loves you is better, Dear. ‘ The only son of his mother, and she a widow!’ I feel rich, and jingle my wealth —a doctor’s fee ! Your affectionate friend, ELSA MARCHANT. My dear Edith: I laughed when I read your suggestion that the great doctor was smitten by my beautiful eyes! I am glad that some one remembers I was accounted ‘pretty and fascinating.’ Kind old flatterer ! You don’t know what a faded, shabby thing I am ! land my ‘ beautiful eyes ’ went to Dr. Harding in my rusty weeds, nearly two years old. I had never been able to. afford a new dress. I spent most of the rejected fee in buying materials, and made one for myself. It is blue serge, and very plain, and I have a plain blue hat to match. The velvet was some old stuff turned, and I put it on myself. You always said that simple things suited me, and really I think I look rather nice. My appearance moved the landlady to say, ‘ Why, you’re only a young creature after all!’ I wore my finery for the first time to take Harry for the friendly visit to Dr. Harding; and do you know, I told him ! It was Harry’s fault. ‘My mummy looks booful in her noo dress!’ he said ; and the doctor laughed—and so did I. . ‘ That dress is a doctor’s fee, Harry/ I said, before I knew what I was asying. I went most dreadfully red; but the doctor covered my confusion.

‘ Do you know/ he said, * it is very nice of you to say that. Now let’s have a look. at Henry Saville Marchant ! Come here, young giant He calls Harry the giant because he is such a wee little shrimp. The friendly few minutes were a professional threequarters of an hour; but Dr. Harding nearly jumped down my throat when I muttered something about the * fee.’

‘ The boy is all right,’ he said, ‘and well able to plague his mother's life out. It is his mother that I’m anxious about.’ And then he cross-examined me again, and even sounded me.

‘ Well,’ he pronounced, ‘ there’s really nothing wrong; but I don’t like those faints.’ I have fainted once or twice lately, and he wormed a confession out of me. ‘ You’re overworked, and want a rest. The painting in the early morning is too much for you.’ I have had a few little commissions- lately for painting cards, and he wormed that out, too. Don t you think it’s better for me than seeing Harry want? I asked, and he couldn’t say anything but ‘Umph!’ to that. 5 The next day he wrote offering to send Harry to his sister in the country for a few weeks. I wrote back and said that I couldn’t spare him; but the doctor called at my poor little rooms in the evening. ‘Now, Mrs. Marchant/ he said, you aren’t the sort of mother to refuse to spare your boy for a week or two, for his good, and for yours and that’s his good, too. So I know that it’s a question of ways and means. You think he hasn’t clothes enough, eh?’ I tried to tell lies; but I can’t tell lies to Dr. Harding. So I had to own it. ‘ It’s your pride versus Harry’s health !’ he pronounced. ‘Well, which wins?’

In the end he took the boy himself. He made me promise not to work in the evenings, and gave me some tickets for plays and concerts. I heard ' Lohengrin ' after all these years! One proof of Dr. Harding's kindness strikes me especially. I have a card or a note every single morning to say that Harry is well. When the doctor was there he wrote himself; now his sister writes. I feel overwhelmed by my debt of gartitude: but 1 console myself in thinking that he is repaid by his pleasure in doing good. . Now about yourself, Dear— Your loving friend, ELSA MARCHANT. " My dear Edith: lam very worried. It is my beautiful eyes!' When I look in the glass they are dull eyes to what they were; but they are brighter than they looked a few months ago, and if I had a little more color I think I could pass for younger than my thirtyone. Anyhow, such as I am, he likes me. • He Has not said so, but I very surely know. Why should the regard of such a magnificent man worry me? you'll ask. Well, Dear, lam not in love with, him That's just all. I like him, I trust him, I admire him. That's not enough. I married once-1 and never again, unless I love a man with a love absolutely beyond my control. I vowed it over and over Harr! aSk ' S me ~ it would mean so much to Harry came back with new clothes, new toys, new We. I saved up to take him to a circus that first evening so that he should not feel that he had returned to a dull home. Oh, Edie, how cruel it is when you can't do things to make your child happy thing! Harding, Harry could have everytn* If I disliked Dr. Hardin I believe I could do it Him r¥ I Sake^ but I l dont disl him at all, I like mm. That seems to make it more dreadful, more mean and disloyal, more hurtful to myself; I can't bear to

I don’t ow why I haven’t fallen in love with would Sf h l bet , ter man than my poor Jack, and he ould be better to me; but I was in love with Jack when I married him, and I am not in love with mv good, good doctor. ■

.What would you do, Edie?

Your worried friend,

ELSA.

My dear Edith: Dr. Harding came last night and asked if I would marry him. He helped me to answer. The answer was no.

I did not think that any man had so much insight and sympathy. ‘ I can see that you are doubtful and distressed,’ he said; ‘ and I know that you have no one to consult. Hadn’t you better talk it over with me — your consulting physician We talked it over, and I was quite honest with him. I told him that I had thought of marrying him for Harry’s sake, and a little for his own, because I admired him and appreciated him and would wish to make him happy ; but that I felt it was wrong to marry for such reasons, and that I had married once, and hadn’t been too happy (I have never said that to anyone before, not even to you) and that I had made up my mind that I should never marry again except for love so strong that I could not help myself. should love you like that. I don’t know why I don’t; for my regard for you is extreme. I don’t mean mere respect, I mean friendship, and friendly affection.’

‘ Then I will try to keep that,’ he said. ‘lf you married me, feeling so, I should lose that friendly affection. What a good, honest woman you are ! Since you have a friendly affection for me, you will grant me a favor. I must do little things to help the boy, to bring him up properly, and give him a start in life ; and perhaps . Let me help you, and save you from drudgery, Elsa.’ * ‘Dear friend, no,’ I said. If I cannot earn enough for the boy, or if I break down, you shall do a little for himso much as you would do from your affection for him, leaving me out; no more. But I must never take help from you for myself, never ! Be kind to my self-respect.’ He just kissed my hand and went. How I wish I did love him ! The worst thing of all is that, if we had met in different circumstances, I believe I might have : but I started thinking of him as a husband just because he could do things for Harry, and now even if I did love him, I shouldn’t be able to believe I did.

I have formed a desperate resolution. I can’t let him see me and want me, and refuse to marry him, and yet take his charity for Harry. I have been offered another post. I shall take it and go away and leave no address, and let him forget me. I shall miss his friendship so much!

Your unhappy friend,

ELSA.

My dear Edith: I am in such trouble ! Since I moved I haven’t been well, and Harry misses the things that the doctor used to send him, and he misses the doctor, too. He is always asking for him. He seems fretful, and asks for things I can’t buy him. I work my heart out, and it’s no use. My new employer was very kind to me from the first. To-day I fainted at the office, and he made me go to his room to rest afterward. He told me that I was killing myself to keep my boy, and then he offered to marry me and keep us both in comfort, I’m beaten, Edith. I can’t do enough for Harry. I must sell myself for him. I didn’t refuse Mr. Richards; but asked for time to think it over.

I knew then what I meant to do. I suppose you will be shocked. I went straight to Dr, Harding. ‘ The boy?’ he said, as soon as he saw me. ‘ What’s wrong?’ ‘lt isn’t Harry,’ I said. ‘lt’s myself.’ And then I told him that I was breaking down, and knew that I couldn’t earn enough to bring up my boy properly, and I meant to marry for his sake, and Mr. Richards had asked me to. ‘ But if you still want me,’ I said, I’d rather marry you, because-’ I was hysterical, you will gather-‘ because it will kill me

to marry anyone else; and it won’t kill me to marry you; and I don’t love Mr. Richards, and I can’t and I won’t, and I wouldn’t if I could. I would love you if I could, and I’ll try.’ I don’t know what I did after that. I believe I clung to him, and I dare say I begged him to marry me, and any way I went off in' a hysterical attack. Anyhow, I found myself shivering in a chair, with a rug wrapped round me and a hassock - under my feet, and a taste in my mouth of medicine that I didn’t remember taking. He had some tea brought in for me before he would let me talk, and made me sit by the fire and drink it.

He said that I shouldn’t marry anyone else, and if marrying him Was the only alternative, of course I should but he thought we should both be happier as friends, since my regard for him was only friendly. 'But,’ he said, if you regard my happiness in the least, Elsa, you must’ let me help you, and sec you comfortable and happy. Otherwise, my life will be very miserable. You don’t- know, you have no idea, what a cruel blow you inflicted on me by running away!’

‘ I have missed you very much,’ I owned. ‘ That is what has broken me down. I will not run away again. Let me have to-night to think it over and get calmer.’

He drove me home and he has sent me all sorts of things —cooked chicken, jellies, wine, grapes, and toys for Harry ! The boy has gone to bed happy by him.

What am I to do, Edith? I can’t marry him, because he doesn’t want me to. (If he did, I could now.) I can’t take his money and not marry him. ■ I can’t marry anyone else. Do you know I would give my life for him! If I don’t marry anyone, Harry will starve.

What shall I do ?

Your miesrable

ELSA. Dear Edith: You have made it all right! When Aunt Mary got your letter she sent me two thousand dollars. It was money that father lent her, with interest. She had been trying to find me for years to pay me; but could not get my address. A lawyer came and identified me, and paid over the money the very morning I wrote to you my last poor, miserable, hysterical letter. I went round to Dr. Harding at once and told him. . I laughed like a girl; and, when I glanced at myself in his mirror, I might have been one. He sat looking at me; and his eyes were positively hungry. I was quite sure then that he still wanted me to marry him, whatever he had said the day before, when I was hysterical. 'I sha'n't have to marry anyone for Harry's sake now,' I said, 'shall I? I have made my vow over again. I will never marry unless I love him. So, as you won't have me, I shall never be able to marry at all.'

‘Elsa!’ he cried.

He held out his hands, and I put mine in them. ‘A doctor’s fee!’ I cried.

I mean to be a fee worth having. I love him so ! Your happy friend,

ELSA.

Exchange.