Storyteller.

White Ribbon, Volume 25, Issue 290, 18 August 1919, Page 11

Storyteller.

I NK DOCTOR S DECISION. (Ethel M. Hayes.) Hi.id ford Gage ncrvousl) pace u M io>> the broad hall» anxiously awaiting the familiar step of the familj phxsician. In a richly fu*ni-hc*d room .it the head of the stairs lax a beauti tul girl. Often a> he waited he heard from .drove screams and cries th i timed t*» teal the heart from his* body Memories, thoughts and sjmpathy that had slept long, came floating across him mind. I'nconsciously he sinks into a chair, and fur a brief space lives it. the past among the Pennsylvania hills. This is the picture he sees: An old farmhouse, a sweet-faced mother and a kindly father; even inch .f th* dear old place with its familiar h unt-. Down through the timber t<> the spiing he patters again, barefooted calling in a shrill, childish voice, ‘•Florence, O F lorence. ’ From somewhere conies the answer, “Ts, Iliad ford. 4 *

Through a hole in the old hedge fence emerges .1 pink sunbonnet, shading a pair of sharp black e*xj*> with the meniost of twinkles, .1 rosy mouth, a dimpled c hin, and black ringlets. She, too, is barefooted and is clad in gingham. For an hour they make mud pies. Then two dinner bells echoing from hill to hill call them home to the noondav meal.

Oh, these times! Hut hark, a step on the gravel, a familiar voice! ‘■flood evening, Brad. Why, what’the matter? You look as if you were .1 hundred years old. Ah, now you’re 'uniling. You must have been living again jour box hood days.’’ (lage came to himself and said slowh, .is though reluctant to return to the present, “Hugh, I’ve si>ent txxo hours of terrible suspense waiting for 'ou ( but there’s no time for woids, come with me.”

They ascended the* stairs and entered the sick I*oolll. By the bed sat Cage's xvife, patiently thougTi vainlx trxing to quiet the tossing figure, flag** > ! earnestly, “Do your best, tlugli.”

The doctor seated himself and be «<ni to watch the movements of the gnl on the bed In the hall outside, H.igt could be heard tramping steadily hack and forth. Occasionally he stopped at the door and looked in, fan resumed his walking. Tvery nerve in the frail body jerked, her eyes xverc like coals of fire as

she fastened on the stranger an angry ga/e. I rom time to time she muttered inaudible. Once she clung lo the wall, as if shrinking from some teirib!o apparition, and her bodx shook with sobs the heart of a wooden man could not withstand. Then, « pitiable pleading look crept into the dark exes Again and again she repeated thv>c -t1 ange a<tions.

The doctor sat there for an hour, stmlxing h«* knexx not xxhat. At la-t he arose and preparing a few powdeis have Mrs Gage directions for administering them, and left the room. In the hall he said brief! \ to his friend: *‘l.et me hear by nine in the morning xxhat the night has been.” Without further remark he departed.

Neither flag'* nor his wife thought of sleep. The same manoeuvres which tin* doctor had witnessed continued un til daybreak, xxhen from sheer exhaustion the* patient slept. At th** appointed hour, Gar; pic sented himself at the office of Dr. Brown. Many times before he hr*’ gone* there for a friendly c hat, but this ’Morning well tlu> was ditfe ent! Dr. Brown greeted him in the usual friendly manner and then a-k----ed: “Well, Brad, how’s the patient by this time? Has she had any rest yet ?” “She was dozing when I left," Brad ford replied. “How long had she been sleeping?" “Since* daybreak.” “Did the medicine have no pacifying effect until then?” the doctor eagerly questioned. “No, and 1 don’t think it really quieted her at all. She xx.is worn out, and slept from exhaustion. Now, Hugh, I have answered jour questions. You answer mine. What is the matter with her?’’

“Brad, you and I are old friends. Tell me one thing more: do xou knoxx this girl to be of strict moral character?”

‘Acs, Hugh, I would not have her under tm roof if she xx ere not; I knoxx her to be every inch a lady.”

“Has she ever had a similar attack?”

“Not to mx knowledge. Two years ago, when she came to our house, I thought her the* most agreeable of }M*rsons. A fexx weeks ago my wife told me that she* had on different occasions since her arrival appeared exceedingly irritable; her actions could hardly be endured. I spoke to her about the matter, and the

perfotmancc has never been repeated. Yesterday afternoon she xx.is t then with a nerxous headache, and went to bed. Her condition grew steadily worse, until 1 sent for you last night. But, Hugh, xou haven’t answered mx question. “

“I have practised medicine lor thirtx year**, Btad, but a case never came to my notice that xx.is su< h a puzzle as this one. Frankly, I don’t know xxhat is the matter, (»age. If slit* were a man, I’d sax she had de!.?ium

tremens.”

Gage sat silent for a while, then remarked, “Now , mx dot tot friend, xou’vc* given nn* xout opinion; I n going to tell xou a story. As xou know, 1 xx.is bo 1 n and grew to manhood on .1 farm in lVnnsx Ivania. When a child my |dax male xxjs mx cousin, Florence Gage. Such times as we had!

“When I xxas eighteen years old I came west, and woiked my xxay through college. Ihe n 1 xxent home, and immediately sought out Florence. I think she xxas the prettiest girl I ever saw, with black bail, and c*>c*s that shone like diamonds. She told me she was soon to be married to a man of wealth and portion, George Bartow by name.

“In the evening a party of guests, myself among them, were invited to her home, ,ind I xxas introduced to her fiancee. lie was a man of splendid form and features, and I admired him greatly, until later in the evening, when suddenly, as we were conversing on the front porch, he drew from his |x>< kc*t a flask and ottered me a drink. True to my early training, I refused. I xxas surprised and pained. “Early on the morrow l again went to Florence's home, and asked her to go with me down to the spring, where as children we used to play. During the xvalk there I asked h<*r if she was certain George’s principles xxere absolutely square. She assured me that he xxa-. a thoiough gentleman. I related to her mx experience of the night before. She xxas greatly affected, and went hastily home. “A few days later she came to me, her anxiety gone, and said that she h.:d asked George about xxhat I had mentioned. lie admitted he xxas a moderate drinker, taking a little every day,* but insisted that the amount lie consumed wouldn’t hurt anybody. I saw that it was useless to sax more.

“In the early autumn they were married, and a handsomer couple I never have seen. Again I came xvest, and took up the practice of laxv. For

a year Florence wrote to me often, then hei letters became less trccju**nt, and knowing her a* 1 did, l lead between the lines something else beside household caies. She was not the same Florence, her life was ciushed, but I knew not why.

“Three years ago I visited by ol 1 home. Shortly after my arrival 1 wa s asked to go to see Florence, but not l > mention to her my impression of l.ei home life. She was d> ing with heart trouble, they said. One beautiful morning I called. In answei to my rap a tcoble voice bade me enter. Well, Hugh, I could scarcely believe that the frai'. tigure propped among the pillows "as the girl I had known. “She se» mod glad to see me, and talked (heeifully for a time. Then she grew silent, and seemed to be in a reverie. I thought perhaps 1 was l nng her, and lose to go. She put out a wa-ted hand as if *o detain me, and said: “ ‘Don't go, Brad. I haven’t seen you for so long, and, Brad, I want to ask \ mi it you renumber the morning you told me that (.eorge was dunking ?' 1 told her I did. “ *O, Brad,’ >hc cued, ‘why didn’t 1 investigate the matter instead of tw/J\ * eng (ieorge’s word for it > Nobody knows what I’ve suffered, and all for lack of a little common-sense. I’ve lived with him for thirty years because 1 thought it was my duty, and only Hod in heaven knows what I’ve suffered. And, Oh, Brad, my beautiful children. 1 had six, and 1 aiv going to tell you their history. “ ‘My oldest son is a prosperous physician in Pittsburgh, a < rt*dit to the family name; my married daugh ter, next to him, is a*, tine a woman as ever lived. But, oh, the rest the pain I have endured through them. One boy, the brightest of all, died in the insane asylum, a victim of drink; the youngest was killed in a diunken brawl, and his twin sister, Hod only knows where she is somewhere in the dutches of sin in Chicago.

“ ‘I still have my baby girl, sixteen years old. What kind of woman she will make remains to be seen. Ke cently lieorge has taken a peculiar clidike to her, and whenever he is dr.nking, declares he will kill her. I haw kept her away from home as much as possible, but I am afraid he will take her life, and add one more bb . to his wretched li>, and fill to overflowing my cup of sorrow.’ “I had never in my life pitied artyonc so much as I pitied the playmate

rf my childhood days. 1 slid to her: “‘Florence, what can 1 do io help you? Couldn’t 1 take your daughtei west with me? I have no children, and I would love to have her for youi sake.’

“‘Bradford, you are, as you always were, my best friend. If you will i.ike my little Florence. I can never thank you enough. Don’t lot her disgrace the family further, but make a Christian of her.’ “A week later the feeble light link ered out, and Florence wa* at lest, we laid her in tin* little family ceme teiy, and then I started home, bring ing Florence Barrow with me. That was two years ago. I have *< arned to love her a>, my own daughter. 1 have spared neither time nor expense on her education, and now to find that she is afflicted with so terrible a thing as delirium tremens -Oh, it stabs me to the heart! And, Hugh, the worst of it is that she cannot help it. All through her life she must be thus afflicted. Oh, my (»od! If the man who drinks were the only one to suffer!

Bradford (iage walked slowly horn*. wondering what the future of this un fortunate girl would be; wondering if medical aid, education, or anything else could ever burst the iron Hands of heredity.