The Doctor [19]
returned with even greater poignancy.
But in all the section there was only one opinion, and that was that, at all costs, the teacher's services must be retained. For once, the trustees realised that no longer would they depend for popularity upon the sole qualification of their ability to keep down the school rate. It was, perhaps, not the most diplomatic moment they chose for the securing of the teacher's services for another year. It might be that they were moved to immediate action by the apparent willingness on her part to leave the matter of re- engagement an open question. On all hands, however, they were applauded as having done a good stroke of business when, there and then, they closed their bargain with the teacher, although at a higher salary, as it turned out, than had ever been paid in the section before.
VI
THE YOUNG DOCTOR
Barney's jaw ran along the side of his face, ending abruptly in a square-cut chin, the jaw and chin doing for his face what a ridge and bluff of rock do for a landscape. They suggested the bed rock of character, abiding, firm, indomitable. Having seen the goal at which he would arrive, there remained only to find the path and press it. He would be a doctor. The question was, how? His first step was to consult the only authority available, old Doctor Ferguson. It was a stormy interview, for the doctor was of a craggy sort like Barney himself, with a jaw and a chin and all they suggested. The boy told his purpose briefly, almost defiantly, as if expecting scornful opposition, and asked guidance. The doctor flung difficulties at his head for half an hour and ended by offering him money, cursing his Highland pride when the boy refused it.
"What do I want with money?" cried the doctor. He had lost his only son three years before. "There's only my wife. And she'll have plenty. Money! Dirt, fit to walk on, to make a path with, that's all! Had my boy lived, God knows I'd have made him a surgeon. But--" Here the doctor snorted violently and coughed, trumpeting hard with his nose. "Confound these foggy nights! I'll put you through."
"I'll pay my way," said Barney almost sullenly, or I'll stay at home."
"What are you doing here, then?" he roared at the boy.
"I came to find out how to start. Must a man go to college?"
"No," shouted the doctor again; "he can be a confounded fool and work up by himself, a terrible handicap, going up for the examinations till the last year, when he must attend college."
"I could do that," said Barney, closing his jaws.
The doctor looked at his face. The shut jaws looked more than ever like a ledge of granite and the chin like a cliff. "You can, eh? Hanged if I don't believe you! And I'll help you. I'd like to, if you would let me." The voice ended in a wistful tone. The boy was touched.
"Oh, you can!" he cried impulsively, "and I'll be awfully thankful. You can tell me what books to get and sometimes explain, perhaps, if you have time." His face went suddenly crimson. He was conscious of asking a favour.
The old doctor sat down, rejoicing greatly in him, and for the first time treated him as an equal. He explained in detail the course of study, making much of the difficulties in the way. When he had done he waved his hand toward his library.
"Now, there are my books," he cried; "use them and ask me what you will. It will brush me up. And I'll take you to see my cases and, by God's help, we'll make you a surgeon! A surgeon, sir! You've got the fingers and the nerves. A surgeon! That's the only thing worth while. The physician can't see further below the skin than anyone else. He guesses and experiments, treats symptoms, trys one drug then another, guessing and experimenting all along the line. But the knife, boy!" Here the doctor rose and began to pace the floor. "There's no guess in the knife point! The knife lays bare the evil, fights, eradicates it! Look at that boy Kane, died three weeks ago. 'Inflammation,' said the physician. Treated his symptoms properly enough. The boy
But in all the section there was only one opinion, and that was that, at all costs, the teacher's services must be retained. For once, the trustees realised that no longer would they depend for popularity upon the sole qualification of their ability to keep down the school rate. It was, perhaps, not the most diplomatic moment they chose for the securing of the teacher's services for another year. It might be that they were moved to immediate action by the apparent willingness on her part to leave the matter of re- engagement an open question. On all hands, however, they were applauded as having done a good stroke of business when, there and then, they closed their bargain with the teacher, although at a higher salary, as it turned out, than had ever been paid in the section before.
VI
THE YOUNG DOCTOR
Barney's jaw ran along the side of his face, ending abruptly in a square-cut chin, the jaw and chin doing for his face what a ridge and bluff of rock do for a landscape. They suggested the bed rock of character, abiding, firm, indomitable. Having seen the goal at which he would arrive, there remained only to find the path and press it. He would be a doctor. The question was, how? His first step was to consult the only authority available, old Doctor Ferguson. It was a stormy interview, for the doctor was of a craggy sort like Barney himself, with a jaw and a chin and all they suggested. The boy told his purpose briefly, almost defiantly, as if expecting scornful opposition, and asked guidance. The doctor flung difficulties at his head for half an hour and ended by offering him money, cursing his Highland pride when the boy refused it.
"What do I want with money?" cried the doctor. He had lost his only son three years before. "There's only my wife. And she'll have plenty. Money! Dirt, fit to walk on, to make a path with, that's all! Had my boy lived, God knows I'd have made him a surgeon. But--" Here the doctor snorted violently and coughed, trumpeting hard with his nose. "Confound these foggy nights! I'll put you through."
"I'll pay my way," said Barney almost sullenly, or I'll stay at home."
"What are you doing here, then?" he roared at the boy.
"I came to find out how to start. Must a man go to college?"
"No," shouted the doctor again; "he can be a confounded fool and work up by himself, a terrible handicap, going up for the examinations till the last year, when he must attend college."
"I could do that," said Barney, closing his jaws.
The doctor looked at his face. The shut jaws looked more than ever like a ledge of granite and the chin like a cliff. "You can, eh? Hanged if I don't believe you! And I'll help you. I'd like to, if you would let me." The voice ended in a wistful tone. The boy was touched.
"Oh, you can!" he cried impulsively, "and I'll be awfully thankful. You can tell me what books to get and sometimes explain, perhaps, if you have time." His face went suddenly crimson. He was conscious of asking a favour.
The old doctor sat down, rejoicing greatly in him, and for the first time treated him as an equal. He explained in detail the course of study, making much of the difficulties in the way. When he had done he waved his hand toward his library.
"Now, there are my books," he cried; "use them and ask me what you will. It will brush me up. And I'll take you to see my cases and, by God's help, we'll make you a surgeon! A surgeon, sir! You've got the fingers and the nerves. A surgeon! That's the only thing worth while. The physician can't see further below the skin than anyone else. He guesses and experiments, treats symptoms, trys one drug then another, guessing and experimenting all along the line. But the knife, boy!" Here the doctor rose and began to pace the floor. "There's no guess in the knife point! The knife lays bare the evil, fights, eradicates it! Look at that boy Kane, died three weeks ago. 'Inflammation,' said the physician. Treated his symptoms properly enough. The boy