He had stood out for some time against obeying the summons, which meant,
at lowest, a ten-mile drive. Not if he were offered a hundred pounds
down, was his first impetuous refusal; for he had not seen the inside of
a bed that night. But at this he trapped an odd look in the other's
eyes, and suddenly became aware that he was still dressed as for the
ball. Besides, an equally impetuous answer was flung back at him: he
promised no hundred pounds, said the man--hadn't got it to offer. He
appealed solely to the doctor's humanity: it was a question of saving a
life--that of his only son. So here they were.
"We doctors have no business with troubles of our own," thought Mahony,
as he listened to the detailed account of an ugly accident. On the roof
of a shed the boy had missed his footing, slipped and fallen some twenty
feet, landing astride a piece of quartering. Picking himself up, he had
managed to crawl home, and at first they thought he would be able to get
through the night without medical aid. But towards two o'clock his
sufferings had grown unbearable. God only knew if, by this time, he had
not succumbed to them.
"My good man, one does not die of pain alone."
They followed a flat, treeless road, the grass on either side of which
was burnt to hay. Buggy and harness--the latter eked out with bits of
string and an old bootlace--were coated with the dust of months; and
the gaunt, long-backed horse shuffled through a reddish flour, which
accompanied them as a choking cloud.
Pages:
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489