It arrived in the form of a boy of ten or twelve, a ragged, scantily
clothed, swarthy youngster, rubbing a great toe against a bare leg
while from the front door he announced that Ignacio Chavez was sick,
that he had eaten something _muy malo_, that he had pains and that he
prayed that the doctor cure him.
Patten grunted his disgust.
"Tell him to wait," he said briefly. And, in explanation to the
others: "There's nothing the matter with him. I saw him on the street
just before I came. And wasn't he ringing his bell not fifteen minutes
ago?"
But the boy had not completed his message. Ignacio was sick and did
not wish to die, and so had sent him to ask the Miss Lady Doctor to
come to him. Virginia rose swiftly.
"You see," she said to Mrs. Engle, "what a nuisance it would be if I
lived with you? May I come to see you to-morrow?"
While she said good night Engle got his hat.
"I'll go with you," he said. "But, like Patten, I don't believe there
is much the matter with Chavez. Maybe he thinks he'll get a free drink
of whiskey."
"You see again," laughed Virginia from the doorway, "what it would be
like, Mrs. Engle; if every time I had to make a call and Mr. Engle
deemed it necessary to go with me . . . I'd have to split my fees with
him at the very least! And I don't believe that I could afford to do
that.
Pages:
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79