And then there came another and a more serious
accident. This would be about two months after the
beginning, though already I find it hard to put things in
their due order. A lawyer in the town named Dickson was
riding past my windows when the horse reared up and fell
upon him. I was eating saveloys in the back room at the
time, but I heard the noise and rushed to the door in
time to meet the crowd who were carrying him in. They
flooded into my house, thronged my hall, dirtied my
consulting room, and even pushed their way into my back
room, which they found elegantly furnished with a
portmanteau, a lump of bread, and a cold sausage.
However, I had no thought for any one but my
patient, who was groaning most dreadfully. I saw
that his ribs were right, tested his joints, ran my hand
down his limbs, and concluded that there was no break or
dislocation. He had strained himself in such a way,
however, that it was very painful to him to sit or to
walk. I sent for an open carriage, therefore, and
conveyed him to his home, I sitting with my most
professional air, and he standing straight up between my
hands. The carriage went at a walk, and the crowd
trailed behind, with all the folk looking out of the
windows, so that a more glorious advertisement could not
be conceived. It looked like the advance guard of a
circus. Once at his house, however, professional
etiquette demanded that I should hand the case over to
the family attendant, which I did with as good a grace as
possible--not without some lingering hope that the old
established practitioner might say, "You have taken such
very good care of my patient, Dr.
Pages:
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256