"You never lie awake thinking over what you've said or
done, do you, Red? Bygones are bygones with a man like you. You couldn't
do your work if they weren't!"
A peculiar look leaped into Burns's eyes. "That's what the outsiders
always think," he answered briefly.
"Isn't it true?"
"You may as well go on thinking it is--and so may the rest. What's the
use of explaining oneself, or trying to? Better to go on looking
unsympathetic--and suffering, sometimes, more than all one's patients
put together!"
Coolidge stared at the other man. His face showed suddenly certain grim
lines which Coolidge had not noticed there before--lines written by
endurance, nothing less. But even as the patient looked the physician's
expression changed again. His sternly set lips relaxed into a smile, he
pointed to a motioning porter.
"Time to be off, Cooly," he said. "Mind you let me know how--you are.
Good luck--the best of it!"
* * * * *
In the train Coolidge had no sooner settled himself than he read Burns's
prescription. He had a feeling that it would be different from other
prescriptions, and so it proved:
Rx
Walk five miles every evening.
Drink no sort of stimulant, except one cup of coffee at
breakfast.
Begin to make plans for the cottage. Don't let it turn out a
palace.
Ask the good Lord every night to keep you from being a proud
fool.
Pages:
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32