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"No, REALLY! And when you say the wives of the doctors share these jealousies Mrs. McGanum and I haven't any particular crush on each other; she's so stolid. But her mother, Mrs. Westlake nobody could be sweeter." "Yes, I'm sure she's very bland. But I wouldn't tell her my heart's secrets if I were you, my dear.
In rhythm to the strokes she went on: "But, Will, there isn't any of what you might call financial rivalry between you and the partners Westlake and McGanum is there?" He flipped into bed with a solemn back-somersault and a ludicrous kick of his heels as he tucked his legs under the blankets. He snorted, "Lord no! I never begrudge any man a nickel he can get away from me fairly."
He's just about on a par with this bone-pounding chiropractor female, Mrs. Mattie Gooch." "Mrs. Westlake and Mrs. McGanum, though they're nice. They've been awfully cordial to me." "Well, no reason why they shouldn't be, is there? Oh, they're nice enough though you can bet your bottom dollar they're both plugging for their husbands all the time, trying to get the business.
"Yes, Westlake may be old-fashioned and all that, but he's got a certain amount of intuition, while McGanum goes into everything bull-headed, and butts his way through like a damn yahoo, and tries to argue his patients into having whatever he diagnoses them as having! About the best thing Mac can do is to stick to baby-snatching.
All right for Pollock, and that's none of our business, but we I think I'd just give the Dillons the glad hand and pass 'em up." "But why? He isn't a rival." "That's all right!" Kennicott was aggressively awake now. "He'll work right in with Westlake and McGanum. Matter of fact, I suspect they were largely responsible for his locating here.
Though they began with propriety, Carol sitting by the kitchen table and Bea at the sink or blacking the stove, the conference was likely to end with both of them by the table, while Bea gurgled over the ice-man's attempt to kiss her, or Carol admitted, "Everybody knows that the doctor is lots more clever than Dr. McGanum."
Carol hastened out of the shop exulting, "She didn't make fun of me. . . . Did she?" In a week she had recovered from consciousness of insecurity, of shame and whispering notoriety, but she kept her habit of avoiding people. She walked the streets with her head down. When she spied Mrs. McGanum or Mrs. Dyer ahead she crossed over with an elaborate pretense of looking at a billboard.
The editor bellowed, "B' gosh you stayed so long that all your patients have got well!" and importantly took notes for the Dauntless about their journey. Jackson Elder cried, "Hey, folks! How's tricks up North?" Mrs. McGanum waved to them from her porch. "They're glad to see us. We mean something here. These people are satisfied. Why can't I be?
McGanum. Kennicott asserted that Westlake and McGanum and their contaminated families were tricky, but Carol had found them gracious. She asked for friendliness by crying to Mrs. McGanum, "How is the baby's throat now?" and she was attentive while Mrs. McGanum rocked and knitted and placidly described symptoms. Vida Sherwin came in after school, with Miss Ethel Villets, the town librarian.
Here Luke Dawson had been coming to me for every toeache and headache and a lot of little things that just wasted my time, and then when his grandchild was here last summer and had summer-complaint, I suppose, or something like that, probably you know, the time you and I drove up to Lac-qui-Meurt why, Westlake got hold of Ma Dawson, and scared her to death, and made her think the kid had appendicitis, and, by golly, if he and McGanum didn't operate, and holler their heads off about the terrible adhesions they found, and what a regular Charley and Will Mayo they were for classy surgery.
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