"Is the doctor there?" asked a sweet, new voice. "Pardon me for interrupting you, but I'm very anxious."

"He will be at the office in just a few minutes," Mary answered, very gently indeed. She realized now that one cannot "monkey" with the telephone.

"Will you please tell him to come at once?" and she gave the street and number.

"I shall send him at once."

"Thank you, good-bye."

Before Mary could seat herself, the expected ring came in earnest. She answered it meekly.

"O, good gracious! hain't he got there yet--?"

"Not yet," said Mary, offering nothing further.

"Well, I've jist _got_ to have a doctor. I'll git some one else." The threat in the tone made our listener smile.

"I think it would be a good thing to do," she said.

A pause. Then a voice with softening accents.

"But I'd lots ruther have Dr. Blank." No reply.

"Are ye there yit, Mrs. Blank?"

"Yes. I am here."

"He'll surely be back in a little bit now, won't he?"

"I think so."

"Won't _you_ tell 'im to come down to Sairey Tucker's? I'm her sister and she's bad sick."

"If you will tell me where you live I will send him."

"He knows--he's been here."

"Very well," and she rang off.

With three messages hanging over her head and her conscience, she could not go upstairs to her work. She must dawdle about at this or that 'till the doctor returned. After awhile she went to the 'phone and called the office. No reply. How she longed to deliver those messages. She dreaded any more calls from the waiting ones. She waited a few minutes then rang again. Thank fortune! Her husband's response is in her ear, the messages are delivered and she goes singing up the stairs.

Ting-a-ling-ling-ling-ling-ling.

It was the telephone on the Doctor's office table and a tall young fellow was ringing it. When he got the number and asked, "Is this you, f.a.n.n.y?" his face took on an expression good to see. It was f.a.n.n.y, and he settled back on one elbow and asked, "What you doing, f.a.n.n.y?"

"Nothing, just now. What _you_ doing?"

"Something a good deal better than that."

"What is it?"

"It's talking to _you_."

"Oh!"

"Is that all you have to say about it?" his voice was growing tender.

"Now, Tom, don't go to making love to me over the 'phone."

"How can I help it, sweetheart?"

"Where are you, anyway?"

"I'm in Dr. Blank's office."

"Good gracious! is _he_ there? I'll ring off--good-bye."

"Wait! f.a.n.n.y--f.a.n.n.y!"

f.a.n.n.y was waiting, but how could a mere man know that. He rang the number again with vehemence.

"Now, Tom Laurence, I want you to quit going into people's offices and talking to me this way."

"Don't you think my way is nicer than yours--huh?"

The circ.u.mflexes were irresistible.

"Well, tell me, Tom, is Dr. Blank there?"

"No, honey. He's away in the back room busy with another patient. He can't hear."

"_Another_ patient? Why, Tom, you're not _sick_, are you--huh?"

f.a.n.n.y's circ.u.mflexes were quite as circ.u.mflexible as Tom's and a thrill went down the young giant's spine.

"No, but I wish I was!"

At this juncture the man who could not hear came in with a face as grave and non-committal as the Sphinx, and the young man asked through the 'phone in brisk, cheery tones, "How are you this morning?" then added in a whisper, "He's here now."

"Is he? Don't talk foolish then. Why, I'm not very well."

"What's the matter?"

"I burned my eye."

"Burned your eye! Confound it! How did you _do_ it?"