The Calling of Dan Matthews Part 15

"Talkin' 'bout ministers, de Pa'son was here to see yo' yest'day evenin'."

"Brother Matthews? I am sorry I was not at home."

"Yes sah, I was sorry too; he's a right pious-lookin' man, he sho is. I don tole him de Lawd only knowed whar yo' was or when yo'd git back. He laughed an' says he sho de Lawd wasn't far away wherever yo' was, an'

that I mus' tell yo' hit was only a little call, nothin' of impo'tance--so's yo wouldn't bother 'bout it, I reckon."

Dr. Harry rose from the table. "Perhaps he will run in this evening. No, this is prayer meeting night. Heigh-ho!" He stretched his tired body--"I ought--"

The old woman interrupted him. "Now look a here Mars Harry, yo' ain't goin' to leave this yer house tonight. Yo' goin' jest put on yo' slippa's an' jacket an' set down in thar an' smoke yo' pipe a lille an' then yo'

goin' to bed. Yo' ain't et 'nough to keep er chicken 'live, an' yo' eyes like two holes burned in er blanket. Won't yo' stop home an' res', honey?" she coaxed, following him into the hall. "Yo' plumb tuckered."

The weary physician looked through the door into the library where the lamp threw a soft light over the big table. The magazines and papers lay unopened, just as they had been brought from the office by Uncle George.

A book that for a month, Harry had been trying to read, was lying where he had dropped it to answer a call. While he hesitated, the old negro came shuffling in with the doctor's smoking jacket and slippers.

"Yes sah, here dey is--an' de mare's all right--ain't hurted a bit--takin' her feed like er good one. Oh, I tell yo' der ain't no betta on de road dan her."

Dr. Harry laughed. "Uncle George, I give you my honest professional opinion--Mother Eve was sure a brunette." As he spoke he slipped out of his coat and Mam Liz took it from his hand, while Uncle George helped him into the comfortable jacket.

"He--he--he--" chuckled the old servant. "A brunette, he--he. That air's yo Liz, ol' 'oman, yo' s...o...b..unette. Yes sah, 'pon my word, Mars Harry, I believe yo'. He--he--"

And the black woman's deep voice rolled out--"Yo' go on now--yo' two, 'tain't so--'cause Adam he sho po'r white trash. Ain't no decent colored body goin' to have no truck wid sech as him."

With the doctor's shoes in his hand the old servant stood up, "Anythin'

else, sah? No? Good night, sah! Good night, Mars Harry!" They slipped noiselessly from the room.

Is there, after all, anything more beautiful in life than the ministry of such humble ones, whose service is the only expression of their love?

Many of the Master's truths have been shamefully neglected by those into whose hands they were committed. Many of His grandest lessons are ignored by His disciples, who ambitious for place and power--quarrel among themselves. Many of His n.o.blest laws have been twisted out of all resemblance to His spirit by those who interpret them to meet the demands of their own particular sects and systems. But of all the truths the Master has given to men, none, perhaps, has been more neglected, or abused than the simple truth He ill.u.s.trated so vividly when He washed His disciples' feet.

Left alone Dr. Harry picked up one magazine after another, only to turn the leaves impatiently and--after a moment--toss them aside. He glanced at his medical journal and found it dull. He took up his book only to lay it down again. Decidedly he could not read. The house with its empty rooms was so big and still. He seated himself at his piano but had scarcely touched the keys, when he rose again to go to the window.

"After all," he thought, "it would have been better to have gone to prayer meeting. I am not fit to be alone tonight. If I could only go to bed and sleep, but I feel as if I had forgotten how. Those Masons certainly got on my nerves." Indeed, the strain was plainly visible, for his face was worn and haggard. In his ears poor Jo's prayer was ringing, "Do somethin' Doc! My G.o.d Almighty, you jest got to do somethin'!"

Turning from the window the doctor's eyes fell on his medicine case, which Uncle George had brought in from the buggy and placed near the hall door.

"Why not?" he thought.

Picking up the case he went to the table, where he opened it hesitatingly.

"After all, why not?" he repeated half-aloud. "I would give it to a patient in my condition."

"But the patient wouldn't know what it was," a voice within himself answered.

"I need something. I--" his hand went out toward the case--"I have never done it before."

"You have seen others who have," said the voice again.

"This is an exceptionally trying time," he argued.

"There will be many more such times in your practice."

"But I must get some rest!" he cried, "I must!" He reached again for the open case but paused--startled by the ringing of the door-bell.

Obeying the impulse of the moment he dropped into his chair and caught up a paper.

Mam Liz's voice, in guarded tones came from the hall, "Yes marm, he's to home, but he's plumb tuckered out. Is yo' got to see him? Yo' ain't wantin' him to go out agin is yo'?"

Another voice answered, but the listening doctor could not distinguish the reply.

"Oh sho mam. Come in, come in. He's in the library."

A moment the nurse stood, hesitating, in the doorway.

Dr. Harry sprang to his feet. "Miss Farwell! I'm glad to see you. I--"

Then he stopped looking at her in astonishment.

Very softly she closed the door behind her, and--going to the table--closed the medicine case. Then lifting her eyes to him with a meaning look she said simply, "I am glad, too."

He turned his face away. "You--you saw?"

"The window shades were up. I could not help it."

He dropped into the chair. "I'm a weak fool, Miss Farwell. No man in my profession has a right to be so weak."

"Yes, that's it," she said gently. "Your profession--those who depend upon you for their own lives and the lives of their dear ones--you must remember that always. Your ministry."

He raised his face and looked at her squarely. "I never did this before.

You believe me, Miss Farwell, that this is the first time?"

She returned his look frankly. "Yes," she said. "I believe you, and I believe it will be the last."

And it was.

For there was something in that voice, something in the calm still depth of those gray eyes that remained with Dr. Harry Abbott and whenever afterwards he reached the limit of his strength, whenever he gave so much of himself in the service of others that there was nothing left for himself--this incident came back to him, that something held him--kept him strong.

Very quickly the nurse changed the subject and led the physician's mind away from the sadness and horror of his work that had so nearly wrought such havoc. The big empty house no longer seemed so big and empty. She made him light his pipe again and soon the man felt his tired nerves relax while the weary brain ceased to hammer away at the problems it could not solve.

Then at last she told him why she had come--to bid him good-bye.

"But I thought you were going to stay!" he cried.

"I had thought of doing so," she admitted. "But something--something makes it necessary for me to go."

His arguments and pleadings were in vain. Her only answer was, "I cannot, Dr. Abbott, truly I cannot." Nor would she tell him more than that it was necessary for her to go.

"But we need you so. I need you; there is no one can take your place--Hope--" Then he stopped.

She was frankly permitting him to look deep into her eyes. "I am sorry, Doctor, but I must go." And the strength of her held him and made him strong.