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Updated: May 18, 2025
Blazowski found it a task beyond her ability to perform the domestic duties attaching to the care of seven children and a like number of boarders in her single room. Mrs. French was seated on a stool with a little child of three years upon her knee. "Doctor, don't you think that these children ought to go to the hospital to-day?" she said, as the doctor entered. "Why, sure thing; they must go.
Once more he started toward the door, but the mother was before him, talking and gesticulating. "What's the row now?" said the doctor, turning to the little interpreter. "She says she must dress them, make them clean." "It's a big order," said the doctor, "but I submit." With great energy Mrs. Blazowski proceeded to prepare her children for their momentous venture into the world.
It must be confessed that her tone was slightly impatient. "Mrs. French has succeeded in getting the excellent Mrs. Blazowski to promise for the tenth time, I believe, to allow some one, preferably myself, to take her eczematic children to the hospital." "Well, she won't." "I think it is altogether likely. But why do you think so?" "Because you have tried before." "Never." "Well, Mrs.
"I don't want it a bit," said his wife. "And you know we can't afford it." "Don't you worry, little girl," said the doctor cheerfully, "practice is looking up. My name is getting into the papers. A few more foreign weddings with attendant killings and I shall be famous." At the Blazowski shack Mrs. French was waiting the doctor, and in despair.
"Well, this can't go on another day, and I can't treat her here. She must go. Tell your mother," said the doctor in a decided tone to a little girl of thirteen who stood near. Mrs. Blazowski threw up her hands with voluble protestation. "She says they will not go. She put grease on and make them all right." "Grease!" exclaimed the doctor. "I should say so, and a good many other things too!
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