The trouble at Pinelands A detective story
The boy frowned deeper. He opened his bag and produced a bottle. “A
spoon, please, with a cup and some hot water.”
When they were brought he poured out some potion that diffused a strong
scent of ammonia and ether. Aunt Mary swallowed it with faint gurglings,
and her eyelids drooped once more.
Lewis scowled and rubbed his chin. “I don’t understand it,” he said.
“Her heart’s all right--strong and regular. But she’s in dreadful pain;
one can see that. I--I’d like to have somebody else see her. Well, we
must get her into bed first.”
As she was wheeled back into her own room, where she was shut in with
nurse and physician, Dorothy and I looked at each other in some doubt.
“It’s no wonder if Lewis is puzzled,” declared the girl loyally. “Aunt
Mary’s is a very unusual case; I don’t know how many doctors have
disagreed about it. She’s often told me so herself.” The girl paused,
looked guiltily about and then came very close. “You know, Uncle
George,” she whispered, her fragrant breath on my cheek, “sometimes I
wonder if auntie is really as bad off as she thinks. Oh, she’s
paralyzed, of course, and it’s an awful thing to be tied to a chair like
she is, not able to stand or walk or do anything for herself. But, I
know it’s just horrid of me, I do wonder if she suffers as much as she
makes out sometimes? I know I stayed with her one night, when Miss
Christie was away, and she slept every minute! And next morning she
swore up and down she’d never closed her eyes, and she was real mad at
me for saying she had.”
“Your aunt has a hard time, my dear,” I told her. “And----”
Lewis emerged from the sick room, still frowning. “She doesn’t seem a
bit better. I wish----” He was staring out of the window at Doctor
Gaskell’s big car, just stopping in front of his house. “I
believe----Darn it, I hate to ask any favors of Gaskell, but he’s older
than I am, and he is mighty clever. I believe I’ll ask him to come over
and see Aunt Mary. Something’s got to be done for her right away; she’s
in dreadful pain, one can see.”
Without more words he ran out, calling aloud.
I felt a surge of pride. It must have been hard for Lewis to admit any
uncertainty before his best-beloved, and doubly hard to ask aid of
Gaskell, whom he disliked so heartily. Yet the boy was big enough to
submerge his pride for the sake of his patient’s well-being.
“He’s a good boy, Dorothy,” I whispered, and she nodded, squeezing my
hand.
Then Lewis returned, escorting Doctor Gaskell. I had to admit that the
latter’s very manner inspired confidence. His deep-set eyes were bright
and steady, and his smile was disarmingly cordial. He smoothed back his
thick, snow-white hair.
“Well, Miss Dorothy! In trouble? We’ll go right in, doctor. Have to do
something for the old lady right away; can’t have her sick now, with a
wedding coming on.” His smile broadened, and a dimple showed at the
corner of his mouth.
Bowing, he turned away, and presently we heard his deep voice in the
bedroom. “What? Sitting up? Fine! Hum, hum. Just wheel her back out,
nurse. Better light in the big room.”
Miss McGregor reappeared in her chair. “She wouldn’t get into bed,
doctor,” explained Miss Christie. “Said it would kill her to be moved.”
“Hum, hum. Not quite that bad,” rumbled Doctor Gaskell, chuckling.
Aunt Mary opened one eye to shoot a curiously vindictive glance at him,
then she groaned aloud and let her head drop limply forward again.
“Hum, hum, hum,” remarked Doctor Gaskell, unmoved. “Let’s look at you
now.”
With swift, practiced hands he made a brief examination; taking the old
lady’s pulse, listening to her heart, tapping her knees and doing all
the mysteriously impressive things that doctors do.
Presently he straightened up. “She’s all right,” he declared brusquely.
“Not a thing the matter with her; a bit tired, that’s all. Go to bed,
madam, and get a nap, and you’ll feel better.”
Miss McGregor’s head jerked up; she opened her eyes wide and fixed the
physician with a baleful glare. I caught my breath in wonder that an old
lady so patient and sweet-tempered could be capable of such viciousness.
But it was over in a breath, and Aunt Mary’s features had resumed their
accustomed expression of suffering sweetness.
“No doubt you’re right, doctor. I--I do feel better.” So gentle and
kindly was her smile that I wondered if my eyes had not deceived me just
now. “The worst is over, I hope. I’m in a great deal of pain, but I can
bear it!”
She looked so white, so fragile; her weary face, her colorless,
quivering lips, told such a tale of suffering bravely borne that my
heart swelled with anger at the callousness of this doctor.
Lewis shared my feelings, I think, for he drew Gaskell to one side and
seemed to remonstrate with him in low, angry whispers. The older man
shrugged and smiled.
“It’s all right, my boy,” he answered aloud. “I admire your soft heart,
but this is plain hysteria. What? Paralyzed? Oh, yes, she’s paralyzed,
but she’s not suffering. When you’ve seen as many women as I have with
‘knots in the back of their necks,’ you’ll realize that the best thing
to do is treat ’em rough. Sympathy only makes ’em worse; and it’s the
poor folks that have to live with ’em who really need your sympathy.
Hum, hum! You go to bed, madam, and behave yourself. And, if you stop
taking out your bad temper on your family, with ‘bad spells’ like this,
you’ll feel better--and so will they.”
It was brutal--even if it had been true it would have been brutal--but
it seemed efficacious. Aunt Mary straightened, with more color in her
thin face than I had ever seen there. Her voice was full and strong, not
sweet and gentle now, but sharp enough.
“You get out!” she said. “Dorothy, pay him and send him away.
You--you’re no doctor! I’ve always said you didn’t know your business,
insulting poor, helpless women like me!”
My nephew interposed. He was perfectly white, and he trembled visibly.
“Let me, Aunt Mary! Doctor Gaskell, you are a cad, sir! A cad and an
ignoramus! You’re a disgrace to our profession. I--I”--he mouthed
inarticulately, almost beside himself with rage--“I--we’ll dispense with
your services, sir. I may be young and inexperienced, but I’m not
heartless. I--I----Get out, sir!”
I caught the boy’s arm. “Softly, Lewis, softly! Don’t forget yourself.
You’d better go, Doctor Gaskell. I--I’m sorry. I apologize, sir. My
nephew is excited.”
“Hum,” said Doctor Gaskell quite calmly. “Hum, hum! Yes, well--good
day!” He bowed to Aunt Mary, to Dorothy, to Lewis, and me, with the most
exact courtesy and went out.
“The beast!” exclaimed Lewis.
“Stop that!” I said to him severely. “He may have been wrong; he was too
abrupt, no doubt. But he gave his honest opinion; and that’s what you
wanted, wasn’t it? And he showed much more courtesy than you did, my
boy.”
CHAPTER IV
A FEUD
My nephew calmed down presently and apologized to the ladies for his
outburst. It had been a distressing scene; but, whether it was Doctor
Gaskell’s rude pronouncement, or excitement, which caused her to forget
her troubles, or just coincidence, Aunt Mary seemed much better for it.
She replied rather shortly to our questions, saying that she was more
comfortable “for the moment,” that she didn’t want anything, and that
she’d lie down a while to recuperate.
Miss Christie wheeled her back again into her bedroom, apparently quite
her usual sweetly, patient self. But I was convinced, none the less,
that she would not lightly forgive Doctor Gaskell.
Poor Dorothy looked dreadfully flustered. As my nephew left us to give
the nurse some last directions, she drew me out into the dining room.
“I--I don’t know what to think, Uncle George,” she declared. “I know
Doctor Gaskell was awfully harsh, and everything like that; and of
course Lewis is an awfully good doctor, and I’m sure he knows what he’s
talking about, but--but, Uncle George, I do believe there was some truth
in what Doctor Gaskell said. I do, I _do_! So there! You haven’t lived
with Aunt Mary a whole year like I have. I do believe she makes out her
pains are lots worse than they are--sometimes; I do believe she likes to
have folks say how patient she is, and how she suffers. If she’s cross
with me, or anything upsets her, I do believe she has one of these bad
spells, when other folks would just be cross and cranky. I just do! But
you won’t tell, will you? You won’t breathe it to a soul that I said
that, will you, Uncle George? Because, maybe, it’s just my meanness,
and, besides, Lewis wouldn’t like it.”
So I promised. Then Lewis appeared, and I went out with him, my own mind
considerably unsettled by doubts. On the whole I was inclined to agree
with Dorothy that Aunt Mary, despite her repeated claims that she never
complained, managed to make the very most of her troubles. My nephew was
still incensed; he snorted wrathfully at intervals. I thought it best to
keep my suspicions to myself.
“I’ll take you down to the post office, unk,” he said. “The mail must be
in by now, and I’ve got to stop at the drug store, anyhow.”
We went to the latter place first, and the pharmacist, Walter Olsen,
hailed my nephew with joy.
“Howdy, doc! Glad you came in. Come on back here.”
He stooped over the high prescription counter at the back of the store,
his inch-wide blond eyebrows working up and down, as they did when he
was puzzled. He was conning over a slip of paper, and this he handed to
my nephew.
“See if you can make that out, doc? Gaskell’s worse than usual lately;
can’t read his writing at all. And he’s gone off somewhere, and
Satterfield may be in any minute after this.”
Lewis took the prescription and studied it for a moment. “Tincture
aconite, one drachm,” he read. “Bellonia--no, belladonna, a scruple.”
Then he paused, staring over the paper at the druggist. “Satterfield,
did you say? Ralph Satterfield? Why, the Satterfields are my patients!
What in thunder does Gaskell mean, stealing my cases?”
He threw the prescription down angrily, his hot temper all aflame. My
nephew had a healthy opinion of his own dignity. “I won’t waste my time
on it!” he flared. “Let Gaskell translate his own scrawls. What a dirty
trick, stealing my patients! I never did think much of Gaskell, but I
supposed he had some idea of ethics. Wonder if he ever heard of
professional etiquette?”
“Now, now, doc,” soothed Olsen. He was a mild, pacific chap. “Don’t let
it upset you. There must be some mistake. Doctor Gaskell wouldn’t do
that, I’m sure.” Stealing another man’s patients is one of the high
crimes of medicine. “You better just ask him about it; likely
Satterfield told him you’d stopped coming.”
“Nonsense!” replied Lewis. “I was out there yesterday; I was on my way
there this morning. It’s the boy, Johnny, isn’t it?” He picked up the
prescription once more. “John Satterfield! That’s my case; I’m treating
that boy. Gaskell just butted in on me without a word. Confound him,
he’s always playing me some dirty trick!”
His voice was high; one or two loafers in the front of the store heard
him and came back to peer over the high screen. Olsen looked troubled.
“Wish I’d let Ralph wait till I could locate Gaskell,” Olsen said to me
helplessly. “I hate to start trouble like this.” He craned his neck to
peer over the screen, as the front door opened. “Here’s Satterfield
coming now!” he announced in vast relief. “You talk to him, doc; see if
he don’t explain this thing. You can talk right back here.”
He beckoned the newcomer and led us to a small storeroom behind the
shop. “You-all can talk quiet in there.” He cast a worried look at the
loungers, who stared and whispered in front of the counter.