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Updated: June 4, 2025
When she saw that the visitor was a fine-looking gentleman, scrupulously well-dressed, even to his gloves and cane, she felt that renown and wealth must be close at hand. "Is Dr. Beswick in?" demanded the caller. "He was called out in haste to see a patient, who was taken down very suddenly," she said; "but I expect him back every moment. Will you come in and wait?" "Can I see Mrs.
Beswick could enjoy the husband for whom she had waited so long and faithfully, by sitting on the lounge in the office whenever she had sedentary employment the same lounge that was opened out at night into a bed.
Martin, who had now got his beard off and his coat on. As he donned his hat and went out the door, Mrs. Martin called: "Father, you'd better get Dr. Beswick"; but her husband made no reply further than to say, "I'll attend to that," without interrupting for a moment his steady tramp down the stairs. "I'm afraid," said Mrs. Martin, "that he has gone for Miss Bowyer." "I hope not," said Phillida.
I'm sure you've got as much ability as Dr. Gunstone, though you don't put on his stylish ways. But we must manage to get you a new overcoat before another winter. Take off the coat, quick." The last words were the result of a ring at the door. The doctor slipped quickly out of his overcoat, laughing, and then instantly assumed his meditative office face, while Mrs. Beswick opened the door.
Millard looked at his watch, remembered that he had had no breakfast, and prepared to take his leave. "Thank you, Charley, ever so much," said his aunt. "I don't know what I should have done without you." "Miss Callender is the one to thank," said Millard, scarcely daring to look at her, as he bade her and Dr. Beswick good-morning.
There, try that on and see how it looks." Dr. Beswick drew the overcoat on, and Mrs. Beswick gave herself the pleasure of buttoning it about his manly form, and of turning the doctor around as a Bowery shopkeeper does a sidewalk dummy, to try the effect, smoothing the coat with her hands the while. "That looks a good deal better, Mattie," he said.
Beswick glanced hurriedly at the face, and then made a mental but descriptive inventory of the costume down to the toes of the boots, rising meanwhile, work in hand, to leave the room. "Please don't let me disturb you," said the newcomer to the doctor's wife; "don't go. What I have to say to the doctor is not private." Mrs. Beswick sat down again, glad to know more of so unusual a visitor. "Dr.
Beswick?" said the stranger, entering. "I am Mrs. Beswick." "I am Mr. Millard. My aunt, Mrs. Martin, referred me to you. The occasion of my coming is this: Miss Callender, while caring for my little cousin, has caught diphtheria." "I'm so sorry. You mean the one they call the faith-doctor? She's such a sweet, ladylike person! She's been here to see the doctor. And you want Dr.
This to Millard. Millard turned to his aunt. She looked at Phillida. "There's Dr. Smith around the corner," said Phillida. Dr. Gunstone said, "Dr. Smith?" inquiringly to himself. But the name did not seem to recall any particular Smith. "And Dr. Beswick in Seventeenth street," said Phillida. "Beswick is a very good young fellow, with ample hospital experience," said Gunstone.
"She's the one there was so much talk about, is she?" asked Mrs. Beswick, showing more animation than sympathy. "Yes; when her mind had been sufficiently excited she believed herself cured, and got up and even walked a little in the square. That's what gave the woman faith-doctor her run.
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