The Waterbury Democrat., 1939-03-20

But it will be different then, Alan. Every patient will just be another person under white sheet - not some girl you've watched grow into womanhood. You'll probably never know her name; you'll never see the baby after she leaves the hospital. They come and they go, and where they come from and where they go to will remain mystery to you. you'll be specialist, not a coun- try doctor"
 "You make 1t sound pretty bad, Doctor" Farrell's arm was around his shoulder the way his fathers would have been, had he lived.
 I'm not trying to discourage you, son." Farrell said. q just want you to be prepared. Think of the advantages you'll have. No more long drives; no more rushing to the hospital in the middle of the night. No more carrying the load of your patients personal troubles as well as her physical ills. That will be a relief. You can call your life your own"
 T wonder what Dad would have done," Alan asked, looking up at the picture.
 Loving his son, knowing what he knew, he'd probably tell you to take it," Farrell answered. But he didn't go when he had the chance. He once had an offer to become associated with a New York specialist and turned it down. His work was here, he said, and here he stayed. He might have been alive today if he had gone to the city"
 His father had stayed here. Would his father want him to stay, even if it cost Emily's love? How had his mother faced this problem?
 Making his rounds in the hospital brought Alan relief. Here he could forget his worries about the future and live only in the work of the present.
 Grandma Franks thin, quaver- ing voice greeted him as he en- tered her room.
 T do declare, Allie Warren,"- she never failed to use his boy hood nickname you're getting more like your father every day. Fine man he was, and a fine doc tor too. You'll never know as much as he did. You and all your crazy contraptions, tying me up here in bed with pulleys and weights. When are you going to stop all this tomfoolery and let me go home?"
 But her chart belied her cheer fitness. Alan noted the high tenn perature, fast puise. She's steadi- ly growing weaker" the nurse told him.
 Maryanne Brown, in the obstet- rical ward, beamed with pride as Alan took her two-day old, eight pound son from the nurse, laid him in his mothers arms.
 What are you calling him, Maryanne?" Alan had wheeled Maryanne in her own carriage for the dime her mother paid him when she was scarcely larger than this tiny child.
 We thought - Harry and I - if you don't mind - we'd like to call him Warren after you." She was almost shy. For Alan had been the beau ideal" of her teen age phantasies.
 Alan was almost out the front door when he heard piping, small voice calling his name down the hall. He turned back to find flve-year-old Tim Mckay, his head wrapped in bandages, rush. ing toward him.
 T thought you'd gone home, Tim," Alan said as he lifted the boy in his arms. Flows the head?"
 I'm going home right away Mama says so," Tim answered.
 NO more sleds, and no more crashing into trees, or you'll bust that noggin of yours wide open," Alan admonished the child.
 "Noggin's all right. Doctor Alan, have you got one?"
 "One what?" Alan feigned ignor- ance, although he well knew what the boy meant.
 "Ice cream cone nickel, ice cream cone nickel" Tim chanted.
 Alan reached in his pocket, drew out coin and solemnly hand