Evening star., 1924-11-23
His Thousandth Case
AGNES TURNBULL.


| stopping the blue roadster as he met
1T on a country road.
Good morning" he said, I'm DIR.
Morton. How's everything going?"
The young man showed a slight re-
straint. but was gracious.
Very well, indeed, T.
They're the finest people in the
world" the older man hurried on,
these people around here. OF course
you have to learn their ways little.
You'll find things different from the
city. A little difference in methods
| needed, perhaps"
Yes" said the young man, but I'm
enjoying it-wonderful view from
here. isn't there?'
In the weeks that followed the old
doctor was regaled with several
pointed instances of the new doctors
i growing popularity. Several people
as brands from the burning, were
hurried to the nearest hospital; Mrs
Sydney. the wife of wealthy retired
| farmer, was discovered to have neu-
ritis rather than rheumatism and was
planning with proud Importance to
go South for the remainder of the
Winter; Mr.. Smiths broken arm had
| been X-rayed; and Mrs. Wade had
been sent to a sanitarium for ner-
vous prostration.
| New Salem was thrilled. 1t took on
new dignity. Conversation vibrated
OF how much more, indeed. could
| Somerville boast?
Still the old doctor pursued his fa-
| miliar way. 1t was the more volatile
| element of the community, he rea-
soned, who were SO eager for new
| and radical measures. Then, one day
| In March the blow fell.
On this day he had purposely taken
| the longest way back from his only
| afternoon trip, when he met Cy Lewis
on the top of the hill above town. Cy
| slowed up as he always did. and they
| exchanged the unfailing remarks
about the weather and the crops
"Old Mrs. Bennet's had another of
her SPELLS Cy remarked, casually,
at last.
Almost on the word the doctors
hands were busy at the levers. He
was looking out for a place to turn.
why didn't you tell me that at
once. you fool? Every minutes pre-
! cious.' he called above the noise of
his engine.
Cy's face was crimson. He waved.
He shouted. Finally tho doctor
stopped.
NO. Doc, guess-you'rc not-Why.
you see-well the truth is, I guess
they called the young doctor this
| time" And Cy hurriedly started his
car.
The doctor drove home stupefied.
The Bennets had called the young
doctor. The Bennets. In wealth. in
refinement, in general intelligence,
they were the leaders of the country
community. More than that, they
were his lifelong friends. lie would
not have believed it possible. Well,
this was the end. Every one in New
Salem would know by night that he
was no longer the Bennet's physician.
Soon he would be nohody's. Chevy
watching. sensing calamity, moved
closer to him.
I'm licked, old man the doctor
said hoarsely, I'm licked
,sE !: = =
THE weeks that followed proved
L the correctness of the doctors
diagnosis of himself. A few old fam
lilies remained on his list for a time:
a few Struggling patients dropped
into the office in the evenings; but
even these were at last swept away
on the tidal wave of enthusiasm for
his young rival.
Then there came A week when
there was not a single country call.
By Friday the doctor could stand it
no longer. With a brave show of
old morning round. Chevy exulted
proudly In his old place.
At far crossroads the doctor,
looking nervously right and left.
turned the car and started back. The
dog gave bark of surprise and
looked questioningly up at his mas
ter. The doctor met the brown eyes
steadily.
1T was a lie, Chevy. but it's the
last one. You and I'll meet this
thing like men" And somehow in
that mysterious interchange of
thought possible between man and
dog the truth lay bare between them.
After that there was no pretense.
The doctor sat on~the porch in the
mornings with Chevy at his feet
and read the paper and tried to greet
the passers-by with his old hearth
ness. One resolve was fixed in his
generous heart-there must be no
hard feelings. They were his peo-
pie: he had tried to serve them well;
but, whether they deserted him for
another or not. the attitude of a
lifetime must not change.
Sometimes he realized with a pang
the power he might WELD. So little,
he knew, was needed to bring them
"A d
tion there, a comment to Jane which
would soon reach the ears for which
1t was intended; all these and more
he could give in general terms within
the limits of professional courtesy.
But the young man was at the foot
of the hill; he was already past the
crest and was starting down the other
side. 1t was for him to relinquish
without protest and without bitter
ness.
SO the days and weeks slipped
away until it was June.
"I haven't seen the young doctors
wife lately" remarked the doctor
one night to his sister. rs she
away?"
NO" said Jane tartly, she's at
home. I guess she has her reasons"
"So?" said her brother.
The implication brought to his
mind a thought he would rather for
get. In all the general pain Of Civ
ing up the work he loved there was
one particularly poignant regret.
The old doctor knew that in one
phase of his practice, at least, he
could measure up to the best of them
without fear, and, lonely old bach
elor that he was, he was glad that
heaven had sent it so. For in the
long years of his work he had, by
skill that seemed sometimes to him.
self almost miraculous, brought safely
into the world nine hundred and
ninety-nine new lives. The record
and the dates were all entered in
little book in the office. He often
Ieafed through it. The pages had
acquired a personal sacredness. In
a sense they we're his children, the
only ones he would leave behind him.
He had speculated often about his
thousandth case. AS the number had