The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 16: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

6 THE ARGOSY. plete successful recoveries had been real- ly amazing. He was in short a first-class physician, of the stuff which, given op- portunity, makes great surgeons as well. But he had been too darned full of scruples and ethics and diffidence and charity! Howville, of Richburg, for whom Hallas folks were wont to send in serious cases, was a country doctor, too, but prosperous to a degree! Why? Be- cause, ever and always, he lunged into a case, did his duty, and collected every penny the traffic would bear and some it was forced to bear! Howville never hesitated about any- thing, never permitted his heart to bleed at any one’s hard-luck story; whereas, about all Dr. Jim Bowen could remember of Hallas people was the story of how the meager crops had failed; how Bill had _ lost his job with the lumber company; how the inspector had condemned all three income-bearing milch cows! _ Dr. Jim Bowen, in short, had lacked push—and now, sitting up and glaring around, he snarled to himself and vowed - that if ever in this world he got on his feet he would show the world a variety of punch that would attract attention. The car had turned three or four times. Where under the sun were they now? Dr. Jim, noting a college to the left of him, and a baseball park in the right dis- tances, concluded that there was still much riding to be done, and settled back to his meditation. He had neither the price to live in New York or Brooklyn, nor the price to leave them and go elsewhere, had there been anywhere else to go. He would have to stay here and makeshift—somehow. How? One does not start an office and wait for patients on a capital of four dol- lars and five cents. Board of Health med- ical jobs, city posts, and that sort of thing probably had fifty applicants waiting for each vacancy. The drug-houses, some of the medicinal factories, use doctors—and that, Dr. Jim Bowen concluded after an- other long period of thought, was the an- swer! Personal and professional pride must go into the discard together. He would have to find some kind of furnished room for a dollar or two, and his trunks would have to remain unclaimed for the present; and if, until he could find a job, Dr. Jim Bowen was able to sustain life without selling his precious, long-cherished instru- ments, he would give up thanks from the bottom of his bitter heart! His trolley chariot was motionless. Come to think of it, the car had been standing still for some time. The man next to Dr. Jim Bowen gave a last irritating rustle to his paper, threw it to the floor, and rose, tramping out with the acrid remark that this was B. R. T. service, and every time a wagon broke down on the tracks the cars stopped. The unfortunate from Hallas, observing two or three cars ahead of them, followed slowly to the platform and the calm conductor. “What part of the world is this?” he asked. ‘“‘ I’m a stranger.” ‘“ Flatbush—this is Farragut Road. Go sit down, mister; you can’t walk to the bay from here. more’n fifteen minutes till the wrecker gets here.” “This will do me as well-as the bay,” Dr. Bowen muttered, stepping off. It was quiet out here, with a prosper- ous quiet conducive to thought. Lines of bare trees, endless bare shrubs, suggested that the region might be beautiful in sum- mer. It was attractive enough now, for that matter. Big, expensive, detached houses stretched far:ahead as the unlucky one loitered up a cross-street — houses with children and garages and maids moving about—the sort of houses one would like to own and inhabit, with all they meant. This huge stucco home just beside with the pretty woman in the window caused certain fierce stirrings in Dr. Jim Bowen and brought back Howville’s frequent as- sertion that every doctor needed a pretty, practical wife if he was to get along. And that impressive, Englishy affair of dusky COME DOOKS: We ain’t held up for . (S@)