The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

8 7 THE ARGOSY. And undoubtedly Polly would know chemical firms hereabout and give him a letter to some people in authority. All in all, Dr. Jim Bowen’s smile was mainly relief as he asked the maid: “Ts Dr. Whinnys at home?’ “The doctor has no afternoon office- hours, sir.” : “T’m not a patient, you know—I’m a friend of his, Dr. Bowen,” said the visi- tor. The maid stepped back and smiled. ‘““Won’t you come in, doctor?” she asked him. “Are you one of the gentle- men he was expecting might call?” “T’m afraid not, I haven’t seen him for years.” The door closed behind him. Over this way was a reception-room such as he had dreamed about owning himself—some day when a billionaire was taken sudden- ly ill at Hallas and later expressed his gratitude to the local doctor. At the other side of the big hallway, as the maid drew back a curtain, was one of the coziest and most expensive little drawing-rooms Dr. Jim Bowen remem- bered seeing; and the maid, his hat and coat in hand, was hesitating doubtfully. “Mrs. Whinnys is out, too, doctor,” she explained, “so I can’t tell you just when the doctor will be back. I’m not sure, but I think he left word that if he hadn’t returned by five he wouldn’t be back for dinner. Wifl you wait?” “ Until five, anyway.” It was a hospitable household, evident- ly, with a well-trained maid. “Then you'll find magazines in here, sir,” she said, ‘‘ and if you wish to smoke and look over the medical journals, the doctor’s office is just at the end of the hall.” After that Dr. Jim Bowen was left alone with his thoughts. They did-not fill him with overwhel- ming cheer. It was not that he actually envied Polly, but he was human enough to admit frankly that all the luxury did hold a certain sting. He was thoroughly glad to find Polly Whinnys—or any other reasonably deserving soul—so’ prosper- ously fixed; but Dr. Jim Bowen would have liked some of it for his own! Children were romping on the veranda now. He stood unsmilingly behind the curtains and watched them. Three there were, two boys and a baby girl, and they were Polly’s kids, fast enough, -blue eyes, red cheeks, voices and all. Five minutes and Dr. Jim, for no ob- vious reason, found that he could watch them no longer without continuing the absurd series of long sighs. He loitered from the drawing-room and through the corridor to the closed door at the end; he passed through it and strolled into Polly Whinny’s consulting-room. In here the furniture was all Circassian and pale tan leather, perfect, high-priced. Case after case held a library that might have roused the envy of a medical college. The nearer door to the right revealed a little snow-white surgery; the farther one, as Dr. Jim Bowen stepped in and looked about, gave into as trim a laboratory as the heart could have wished, all shining glass and copper and white tile, with tools of bacteriology and physiological chemis- try so many and bewildering that there were some he could not even name. At another time Dr. Jim would have purred and grinned and prodded all about, reveling in the perfection of the place; just now he found that he could not ex- amine things calmly. He walked back to the office and its window. Behind the house, at the end of the long yard, a garage stood, door open. And here were six thousand dollars’ worth of touring-car and a highly professional- looking little electric and a vacant space; while in the shadows he noted a battery- - charging plant and—again Dr. Jim Bowen turned away! Polly Whinnys had everything on earth; he himself had four dollars and five cents! With a last heavy sigh, therefore, Dr. Jim seated himself at the desk of his old friend and took to reading. Several of the magazines he had been unable to afford this last year; here was COMMIG HOOKS (C@)