Red Peppers Patients | Page 2

another
child, not far away, laughed aloud. The stranger furtively scrutinized
the other patients one by one, lifting apparently casual glances from
behind his magazine. Several, presumably the owners of the vehicles
outside, were of the typical village type, but there were others more
sophisticated, and several who were palpably persons of wealth. One
late comer was admitted who left a luxuriously appointed motor across
the street, and brought in with her an atmosphere of costly furs and
violets and fresh air.
"Certainly a mixed crowd," said the stranger to himself behind his
magazine; "but not so different, after all, from most doctors'
waiting-room crowds. I might send in a card, but, if I remember Red, it
wouldn't get me anything--and this is rather interesting anyhow. I'll
wait."
He waited, for he wished the waiting room to be clear when he should
approach that busy consulting room beyond. Meanwhile, people came
and went. The door into the inner room would swing open, a patient
would emerge, a curt but pleasant "Good-bye" in a deep voice
following him or her out, and the fair-haired nurse, who sat at a desk
near the door or came out of the consulting room with the patient,
would summon the next. The lady of the furs and violets sent in her
card, but, as the stranger had anticipated in his own case, it procured
her no more than an assurance from the nurse that Doctor Burns would
see her in due course. Since he wanted the coast clear the stranger,
when at last his turn arrived, politely waived his rights, sent the furs
and violets in before him, and sat alone with the nurse in the cleared
waiting room.

A comparatively short period of time elapsed before the
consulting-room door opened once more. But it closed
again--almost--and a few words reached the outer room.
"Oh, but you're hard--hard, Doctor Burns! I simply can't do it," said a
plaintive voice.
"Then don't expect me to accomplish anything. It's up to
you--absolutely," replied a brusque voice, which then softened slightly
as it added: "Cheer up. You can, you know. Good-bye."
The patient came out, her lips set, her eyes lowered, and left the office
as if she wanted nothing so much as to get away. The nurse rose and
began to say that Doctor Burns would now see his one remaining caller,
but at that moment Doctor Burns himself appeared in the doorway,
glanced at the stranger, who had risen, smiling--and the need for an
intermediary between physician and patient vanished before the
onslaught of the physician himself.
"My word! Gardner Coolidge! Well, well--if this isn't the greatest thing
on earth. My dear fellow!"
The stranger, no longer a stranger, with his hand being wrung like that,
with his eyes being looked into by a pair of glowing hazel eyes beneath
a heavy thatch of well-remembered coppery hair, returned this
demonstration of affection with equal fervour.
"I've been sitting in your stuffy waiting room, Red, till the entire
population of this town should tell you its aches, just for the pleasure of
seeing you with the professional manner off."
Burns threw back his head and laughed, with a gesture as of flinging
something aside. "It's off then, Cooly--if I have one. I didn't know I had.
How are you? Man, but it's good to see you! Come along out of this
into a place that's not stuffy. Where's your bag? You didn't leave it
anywhere?"
"I can't stay, Red--really I can't. Not this time. I must go to-night. And I

came to consult you professionally--so let's get that over first."
"Of course. Just let me speak a word to the authorities. You'll at least
be here for dinner? Step into the next room, Cooly. On your way let me
present you to my assistant, Miss Mathewson, whom I couldn't do
without. Mr. Coolidge, Miss Mathewson."
Gardner Coolidge bowed to the office nurse, whom he had already
classified as a very attractively superior person and well worth a good
salary; then went on into the consulting room, where an open window
had freshened the small place beyond any possibility of its being called
stuffy. As he closed the window with a shiver and looked about him,
glancing into the white-tiled surgery beyond; he recognized the fact
that, though he might be in the workshop of a village practitioner, it
was a workshop which did not lack the tools of the workman
thoroughly abreast of the times.
Burns came back, his face bright with pleasure in the unexpected
appearance of his friend. He stood looking across the small room at
Coolidge, as if he could get a better view of the whole man at a little
distance. The two men were a decided contrast to each other. Redfield
Pepper Burns, known