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Updated: May 18, 2025
"You remember you laughed at me, Esther. Suggested liver. And when I mentioned your mother you almost convinced me that I was wrong. Although I am never wrong. It is your mother, Esther. My poor brother, brokenhearted, quite utterly!" This was so amazing that Esther waited for more. "I suppose he felt certain of her until Dr. Callandar stepped in. Could hardly believe it.
She was gone slipped away, he thought, with but little more knowledge of living than the tiny baby he had just helped to bring into the world. Brushing away the mist which for a moment blurred his sight, Callandar kissed the picture gently and shut the case. The dawn was golden now. The motor began to gather speed.
Callandar had to clear the table himself. This he did by the simple expedient of putting everything on top of everything else. But he did not waste anything, a precaution whose value he realised that night upon returning from the dining room where he had spent some time in looking at that repast known to the Imperial as supper. Bubble, the bell boy, found him with his mind made up.
Everybody wondered why Mary Coombe stood it. Surely it was bad enough when a man sets up to be a domestic tyrant after marriage. They were surprised at Dr. Callandar they hadn't thought it of him. "It is women like Mary Coombe who submit tamely to such indignities," declared the eldest Miss Sinclair, "who have held back the emancipation of women from the beginning of time."
At the door she would still have accompanied her but Mary flung herself angrily from her hold and ran up the stairs with sudden feverish strength. Esther turned into the living room and dropped into the nearest chair. She was still sitting there without having removed either hat or gloves when, a little later, Callandar entered. "Well, nurse," with a faint smile, "how are things to-day?"
It is something to help a fellow woman and still more to get the better of a fellow man. Especially such a celebrated man as Dr. Callandar! She would order the fresh supply at once, that very afternoon, by the first mail. And as soon as the packet came she would see that Mrs. Coombe had it in person.
"Did she 'ris' the ham also?" "Nope. It's Miss Taylor's ham. Home cured. The minister thinks a whole lot of Miss Taylor's curin'. Ma thinks that if Miss Taylor wasn't quite so hombly, minister might ask her jest on account of the ham. You try it wait a jiffy till I sneak some knives!" Callandar looked at the decorated wash-stand and felt better.
"Oh, doctor!" she cried feebly, "I " a rush of easy tears drowned the rest of the sentence. Callandar let her cry. He knew the value of those tears. Presently when she grew more quiet he exchanged her soaking bit of cambric for his own more serviceable square. Aunt Amy dried her eyes on it and handed it back as simply as a child. "Pray excuse me," she begged, "but the relief!
On the veranda were green chairs and in the chairs reclined such portion of the male Coombers as could do so without fear and without reproach. Along the top of the veranda was a large sign displaying the words, "HOTEL IMPERIAL." Callandar alighted nimbly from the democrat, that being the name of the light spring wagon in which he had travelled, and shook his good Samaritan by the hand.
We have given it in detail because it was so commonplace, so empty of any incident which might have foreshadowed the happenings of the afternoon. Callandar was restless, but any man is restless under such circumstances. He found the morning long, but that was natural.
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