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Paying the Doctor
by [?]

AFTER a day of unusual anxiety and fatigue, Dr. Elton found himself snugly wrapped up in a liberal quantity of blankets and bed-quilts, just as the clock struck twelve one stormy night in February. For over half an hour he had lain awake, racking his brain in reference to two or three critical cases which were on his hands; but tired nature could keep up no longer, and the sweet oblivion of sleep was stealing over his senses. But just as he had lost himself, the bell over his head began to ring furiously, and brought him into the middle of the floor in an instant. Pushing his head out of the window, he interrogated the messenger below, just too late to save that individual the trouble of giving the bell-rope another violent demonstration of his skill.

“Mr. Marvel wants you to come and see Charley immediately,” replied the messenger.

“What’s the matter with Charley?”

“He’s got the croup, I believe.”

“Tell him I’ll be there in a moment,” said Dr. Elton, drawing in his head. Hurrying on his clothes, he descended to his office, and, possessing himself of some necessary medicines, it being too late for the family to send out a prescription, wrapped his cloak around him, and turned out into the storm.

It was at least half a mile to the residence of Mr. Marvel, and by, the time the doctor arrived there, he was cold, wet, and uncomfortable both in mind and body. Ascending to the chamber, he was not a little surprised to find Charley, a bright little fellow of some two years old, sitting up in his crib as lively as a cricket.

“O doctor! we’ve been so frightened!” said Mrs. Marvel, as Dr. Elton entered. “We thought Charley had the croup, he breathed so loud. But he don’t seem to get any worse. What do you think of him, doctor?”

Dr. Elton felt his pulse, listened to his respiration, examined the appearance of his skin, and then said, emphatically–

“I think you’d better all be in bed!”

“It’s better to be scared than hurt, doctor,” responded Mr. Marvel.

“Humph!” ejaculated Dr. Elton.

“Don’t you think you’d better give him something, doctor?” said Mrs. Marvel.

“What for, ma’am?”

“To keep him from having the croup. Don’t you think he’s threatened with it?”

“Not half as much as I am,” replied the doctor, who made a quick retreat, fearing that he would give way too much to his irritated feelings, and offend a family who were able to pay.

Next morning, on the debtor side of his ledger, under the name of Mr. Marvel, Dr. Elton made this entry; To one night-visit to son, $5. “And it’s well for me that he’s able to pay,” added the doctor, mentally, as he replaced the book in the drawer from which he had taken it. Scarcely had this necessary part of the business been performed, when the same messenger who had summoned him the night before, came post-haste into the office, with the announcement that Mrs. Marvel wanted him to come there immediately, as Charley had got a high fever.

Obedient to the summons, Dr. Elton soon made his appearance, and found both Mr. and Mrs. Marvel greatly concerned about their little boy.

“I’m so ‘fraid of the scarlet fever, doctor!” said Mrs. Marvel. “Do you think it’s any thing like that?” she continued with much anxiety, turning upon Charley a look of deep maternal affection.

Dr. Elton felt of Charley’s pulse, and looked at his tongue, and then wrote a prescription in silence.

“What do you think of him, doctor?” asked the father, much concerned.

“He’s not dangerous, sir. Give him this, and if he should grow worse, send for me.”

The doctor bowed and departed, and the fond parents sent off for the medicine. It was in the form of a very small dose of rhubarb, and poor Charley had to have his nose held tight, and the nauseous stuff poured down his throat. In the afternoon, when the doctor called, on being sent for, there were some slight febrile symptoms, consequent upon excitement and loss of rest. The medicine, contrary to his expectation, heightened, instead of allaying these; and long before nightfall he was summoned again to attend his little patient. Much to his surprise, he found him with a hot skin, flushed face, and quickened pulse. Mrs. Marvel was in a state of terrible alarm.