The Doctor [92]
up the Windermere. I hain't no saint, an' I hain't no scholar, but I goes by them as is, an' I know that there's Miss Margaret, an' I tell you"--here Ben solemnly removed his pipe from his mouth and, holding it by the bowl, pointed the stem, by way of emphasizing his words, straight at Tommy's face--"I tell you she puts them churches above even this 'ere hinstitution!" And Ben sat back in his chair to allow the full magnitude of this fact to have its full weight with Tommy. For once Tommy was without reply, for anything savouring of criticism of Miss Margaret or her opinions was impossible to him.
"An' what's more," continued Ben, "this 'ere hinstitution in which we're a-sittin' this hour wouldn't be 'ere but fer that same preacher an' them that backs him up. That's yer churches fer yeh!" And still Tommy remained silent.
"An' if yeh want to knew more about him, you ask Magee there, an' Morrison an' Old Cap Jim an' a 'eap of fellows about this 'ere preacher, an' 'ear 'em talk. Don't ask me. 'Ear 'em talk w'en they git time. They wuz a blawsted lot of drunken fools, workin' for the whiskey-sellers an' the tin-horn gamblers. Now they're straight an' sendin' their money 'ome. An' there's some as I know would be a lot better if they done the same."
"Manin' mesilf, ye blaggard! An' tis thrue fer ye. But luk at the docthor, will ye, ain't he down on the whiskey, too?"
"Yes, that's w'at I 'ear," conceded Ben. "But e'll soak 'em good at poker."
"Bedad, it's the truth ye're spakin," said Tommy enthusiastically. "An' it wud do ye more good than a month's masses to see him take the hair aff the tin horns, the divil fly away wid thim! An' luk at the 'rid lights'--"
"'Red lights'? interrupted Ben. "Now ye're talkin'. Who cleared up the 'rid lights' at Bull Crossin'."
"Who did, thin?"
"Who? The Reverend Richard Boyle is the man."
"Aw, run in an' shut the dure! Ye're walkin' in yer slape."
"Mr. Tate, I 'appen to know the facts in this 'ere particular case, beggin' yer 'umble pardon." Ben's h's became more lubricous with his rising indignation. "An' I 'appen to know that agin the Pioneer's violent opposition, agin the business men, agin his own helder a-keepin' the drug shop, agin the hagent of the town site an' agin the whole blawsted, bloomin' population, that 'ere preacher put up a fight, by the jumpin' Jemima! that made 'em all 'unt their 'oles!"
"Aw, Benny, it's wanderin' agin ye are! Did ye niver hear how the docthor walked intil the big meetin' an' in five minutes made the iditor av the Pioneer an' the town site agent an' that bunch look like last year's potaty patch fer ould shaws, wid the spache he gave thim?"
"No," said Ben, "I didn't 'ear any such thing, I didn't."
"Well, thin, go out into society, me bhoy, an' kape yer ears clane."
"My ears don't require no such cleanin' as some I know!" cried Ben, whose self-control was strained to the point of breaking.
"Manin' mesilf agin. Begorra, it's yer game leg that saves ye from a batin'!"
"I don't fight no sick man in our own 'ospital," replied Ben scornfully, "but w'en yer sufficiently recovered, I'd be proud to haccommodate yeh. But as fer this 'ere preacher--"
"Aw, go on wid yer preacher an' yer hull outfit! The docthor yonder's worth--"
"Now, Mr, Tate, this 'ere's goin' past the limit. I can put up with a good deal of abuse from a sick man, but w'en I 'ears any reflections thrown out at this 'ere 'ospital an' them as runs it, by the livin' jumpin' Jemima Jebbs! I hain't goin' to stand it, not me!" Ben's voice rose in a shrill cry of anger. "I'd 'ave yeh to know that the 'ead of this 'ere hinstitution--"
"Aw, whist now, ye blatherin' bletherskite, who's talkin' about the Head? The Head, is it? An' d'ye think I'd sthand-- Howly Moses! here she comes, an' the angels thimsilves wud luk like last year beside her!"
"Good-morning, Tommy. Why, I do think you are looking remarkably well to-day," cried the matron, her brisk step, bright face, and cheery voice eloquent of her splendid vitality and high
"An' what's more," continued Ben, "this 'ere hinstitution in which we're a-sittin' this hour wouldn't be 'ere but fer that same preacher an' them that backs him up. That's yer churches fer yeh!" And still Tommy remained silent.
"An' if yeh want to knew more about him, you ask Magee there, an' Morrison an' Old Cap Jim an' a 'eap of fellows about this 'ere preacher, an' 'ear 'em talk. Don't ask me. 'Ear 'em talk w'en they git time. They wuz a blawsted lot of drunken fools, workin' for the whiskey-sellers an' the tin-horn gamblers. Now they're straight an' sendin' their money 'ome. An' there's some as I know would be a lot better if they done the same."
"Manin' mesilf, ye blaggard! An' tis thrue fer ye. But luk at the docthor, will ye, ain't he down on the whiskey, too?"
"Yes, that's w'at I 'ear," conceded Ben. "But e'll soak 'em good at poker."
"Bedad, it's the truth ye're spakin," said Tommy enthusiastically. "An' it wud do ye more good than a month's masses to see him take the hair aff the tin horns, the divil fly away wid thim! An' luk at the 'rid lights'--"
"'Red lights'? interrupted Ben. "Now ye're talkin'. Who cleared up the 'rid lights' at Bull Crossin'."
"Who did, thin?"
"Who? The Reverend Richard Boyle is the man."
"Aw, run in an' shut the dure! Ye're walkin' in yer slape."
"Mr. Tate, I 'appen to know the facts in this 'ere particular case, beggin' yer 'umble pardon." Ben's h's became more lubricous with his rising indignation. "An' I 'appen to know that agin the Pioneer's violent opposition, agin the business men, agin his own helder a-keepin' the drug shop, agin the hagent of the town site an' agin the whole blawsted, bloomin' population, that 'ere preacher put up a fight, by the jumpin' Jemima! that made 'em all 'unt their 'oles!"
"Aw, Benny, it's wanderin' agin ye are! Did ye niver hear how the docthor walked intil the big meetin' an' in five minutes made the iditor av the Pioneer an' the town site agent an' that bunch look like last year's potaty patch fer ould shaws, wid the spache he gave thim?"
"No," said Ben, "I didn't 'ear any such thing, I didn't."
"Well, thin, go out into society, me bhoy, an' kape yer ears clane."
"My ears don't require no such cleanin' as some I know!" cried Ben, whose self-control was strained to the point of breaking.
"Manin' mesilf agin. Begorra, it's yer game leg that saves ye from a batin'!"
"I don't fight no sick man in our own 'ospital," replied Ben scornfully, "but w'en yer sufficiently recovered, I'd be proud to haccommodate yeh. But as fer this 'ere preacher--"
"Aw, go on wid yer preacher an' yer hull outfit! The docthor yonder's worth--"
"Now, Mr, Tate, this 'ere's goin' past the limit. I can put up with a good deal of abuse from a sick man, but w'en I 'ears any reflections thrown out at this 'ere 'ospital an' them as runs it, by the livin' jumpin' Jemima Jebbs! I hain't goin' to stand it, not me!" Ben's voice rose in a shrill cry of anger. "I'd 'ave yeh to know that the 'ead of this 'ere hinstitution--"
"Aw, whist now, ye blatherin' bletherskite, who's talkin' about the Head? The Head, is it? An' d'ye think I'd sthand-- Howly Moses! here she comes, an' the angels thimsilves wud luk like last year beside her!"
"Good-morning, Tommy. Why, I do think you are looking remarkably well to-day," cried the matron, her brisk step, bright face, and cheery voice eloquent of her splendid vitality and high