Doc. Gordon

'Doc.' Gordon, by Mary E.
Wilkins-Freeman

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Title: 'Doc.' Gordon
Author: Mary E. Wilkins-Freeman
Illustrator: Frank T. Merrill
Release Date: April 24, 2005 [EBook #15695]
Language: English
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GORDON ***

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[Illustration: Doctor Gordon * * * had not even taken off his overcoat,
which was white with snow. Page 104.]

"Doc." Gordon
By
MARY E. WILKINS-FREEMAN
Author of
"The Debtor," "A Humble Romance," "The Heart's Highway,"
"Pembroke," Etc.
Illustrated in Water-Colors by FRANK T. MERRILL
Copyright, 1906, by Mary E. Wilkins-Freeman
H.L. MOORE SPECIAL EDITION, For Sale exclusively by us in
Rahway, N.J.
NEW YORK AND LONDON THE AUTHORS AND NEWSPAPERS
ASSOCIATION 1906
COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY MARY E. WILKINS-FREEMAN.
Entered at Stationers' Hall. All rights reserved.
Composition and Electrotyping by J.J. Little & Co. Printed and bound
by Manhattan Press, New York.
[Illustration: (FACSIMILE PAGE OF MANUSCRIPT FROM DOC.
GORDON)]

"DOC." GORDON
CHAPTER I
It was very early in the morning, it was scarcely dawn, when the young

man started upon a walk of twenty-five miles to reach Alton, where he
was to be assistant to the one physician in the place, Doctor Thomas
Gordon, or as he was familiarly called, "Doc." Gordon. The young
man's name was James Elliot. He had just graduated, and this was to be
his first experience in the practice of his profession of medicine. He
was in his twenties. He was small, but from the springiness of his gait
and the erectness of his head he gave an impression of height. He was
very good-looking, with clearly-cut features, and dark eyes, in which
shone, like black diamonds, sparks of mischief. They were honest eyes,
too. The young fellow was still sowing his wild oats, but more with his
hands than with his soul. He was walking because of a great amount of
restless energy; he fairly revelled in stretching his legs over the country
road in the keen morning air. The train service between Gresham, his
home place, and Alton was very bad, necessitating two changes and
waits of hours, and he had fretted at the prospect. When a young man is
about to begin his career, he does not wish to sit hours in dingy little
railroad stations on his way toward it. It was much easier, and
pleasanter, to walk, almost run to it, as he was doing now. His only
baggage was his little medicine-case; his trunk had gone by train the
day before. He was very well dressed, his clothes had the cut of a city
tailor. He was almost dandified. His father was well-to-do: a successful
peach-grower on a wholesale scale. His great farm was sprayed over
every spring with delicate rosy garlands of peach blossoms, and in the
autumn the trees were heavy with the almond-scented fruit. He had
made a fortune, and aside from that had achieved a certain local
distinction. He was then mayor of Gresham, which had a city
government. James was very proud of his father and fond of him.
Indeed, he had reason to be. His father had done everything in his
power for him, given him a good education, and supplied him liberally
with money. James had always had a sense of plenty of money, which
had kept him from undue love of it. He was now beginning the practice
of his profession, in a small way, it is true, but that he recognized as
expedient. "You had better get acclimated, become accustomed to your
profession in a small place, before you launch out in a city," his father
had said, and the son had acquiesced. It was the natural wing-trying
process before large flights were attempted, and the course commended
itself to his reason. James, as well as his father, had good reasoning

power. He whistled to himself as he walked along. He was very happy.
He had a sensation as of one who has his goal in sight. He thought of
his father, his mother, and his two younger sisters, but with no distress
at absenting himself from them, although he lived in accord with his
family. Twenty-five miles to his joyous youth seemed but as a step
across the road. He had no sense of separation. "What is twenty-five
miles?" he had said laughingly to his mother, when she had kissed him
good-by. He had no conception of her