FullReads

“Next morning I went to see him again. Bill, by arrangement, met me at the corner of the street and took me to the wounded man’s room, in and out, by the same route we had taken the night before. I found he had passed a good night, had no fever, and was all right. I left some medicine and directions, got my ten dollars, and never went again.

“Last month, some two days before Christmas, I was sitting here reading–it was after twelve o’clock–when I heard a tap on the window-pane. I pushed aside the shade and looked out a thick-set man motioned me to open the door. When he got inside the hall he said:

“‘Ain’t forgot me again, have you, “Doc”!’

“‘No, you’re the man I fixed up in Washington Street last fall.’

“‘Yea, that’s right, “Doc”; that’s me. Can I come in? I got something for you.’

“I brought him in and he sat down on that sofa. Then he pulled out a package from his inside pocket.

“‘”Doc,”‘ he began, ‘I was thinking to-night of what you done for me and how you did it, and how decent you’ve been about it always, and I thought maybe you wouldn’t feel offended if I brought you this bunch of scarfpins to take your pick from’–and he unwrapped the bundle. ‘There’s a pearl one–that might please you–and here’s another that sparkles–take your pick, “Doc.” It would please me a heap if you would’–and he handed me half a dozen scarfpins stuck in a flannel rag–some of them of great value.

“I didn’t know what to say at first. I couldn’t get mad. I saw he was in dead earnest, and I saw, too, that it was pure gratitude on his part that prompted him to do it. That’s a kind of human feeling you don’t want to crush out in a man. When he’s got that, no matter what else he lacks, you’ve got something to build on. I pulled out the pearl pin from the others. I wanted to get time to make up my mind as to what I really ought to do.

“‘Very nice pin,’ I said.

“‘Yes, I thought so. I got it on a Sixth Avenue car. Maybe you’ll like the gold one better; take your pick, it’s all the same to me. That one you’ve got in your hand is a good one.’ I was slowly looking them over, making up my mind how I would refuse them and not hurt his feelings.

“‘How did you get this one?’ I asked, holding up the pearl pin.

“‘I picked it up outside Cooper Union.’

“‘On the sidewalk?’

“‘No, from a feller’s scarf. I held the cab door for him.’ He spoke exactly as if he had been a collector who had been roaming the world for curios. ‘Take ’em both, “Doc”–or all of ’em–I mean it.’

“I laid the bundle on the table and said: ‘Well, that’s very kind of you and I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate it–but you see I don’t wear scarfpins, and if I did I don’t think I ought to take these. You see we have two different professions–you’ve got yours and I’ve got mine. I saw off men’s legs, or I help them through a spell of sickness. They pay me for it in money. You’ve got another way of making your living. Your patients are whoever you happen to meet. I mightn’t like your way of doing, and you mightn’t like mine. That’s a matter of opinion, or, perhaps, of education. You’ve got your risks to run, and I’ve got mine. If I cut too deep and kill a man they can shut me up–just as they can if you get into trouble. But I don’t think we ought to mix up the proceeds. You wouldn’t want me to give you this five-dollar Bill–and I held up a note a patient had just paid me–‘and therefore I don’t see how I ought to take one of your pins. I may not have made it plain to you–but it strikes me that way.’