The Doctor Takes a Wife by Elizabeth Seifert Read Free Book Online

Whit...”
    “I ’ m looking. You ’ re the one wearing blinders, Phi l. Stop and think a bit. Aren ’ t you taking off because the grass looks greener way off yonder?”
    “Not at all, and you know it . ”
    “ You could do some of that-there research right here in Berilo if you really wanted to. We got rats and all that-such here.”
    “There isn ’ t a medical school in the whole state.”
    “And do you know what? Well never get one with the attitude you ’ re taking.”
    “If I had more vanity, I ’ d take that charge seriously.”
    “You ’ ve got all the vanity you need,” I assured him. We were closer to quarreling than Phil and I had ever come. “Dr. Pasteur,” I added nastily.
    “If I were Pasteur,” he informed me, “I could work here in Idaho. But since I am green at research, I ’ m going to have to work under direction, and to do that...”
    “You have to go East . ”
    “I don ’ t know whether I ’ d have to, but I am going. As far as St Louis, at least . ”
    I thought about Min, and something turned over inside of me.
    “How long will it take you to win the Nobel prize?” I inquired nastily.
    “Whit... ” He had paled.
    “I ’ m sorry. I ’ m a bear with a sore paw. Two sore paws. I don ’ t want you to walk out on the Clinic, and I don ’ t want you following my girl.”
    “You damned fool! I ’ m not following Min!” he spoke hotly. And loud.
    “Min ’ s in St Louis,” I told him coldly.
    “That ’ s not why I ’ m going there.”
    I didn ’ t believe him, and said so.
    “I don ’ t care what you believe. It ’ s the truth. I ’ m going there because my father had friends in St. Louis. I wrote to one—he used to be Chief Surgeon of the Boone Group — and I got a berth there. Lab space, and I ’ ll serve in the urology and pre-natal clinic. I won ’ t be much above a clerk, so I don ’ t think the reporters will hunt me out, including Min Brady.”
    “I find myself unconvinced,” I said.
    “And unless I sell my Clinic stock, I’ll be too poor to hunt out any girls,” he assured me. “Besides, Whit—Min is your girl and I know it. I ’ m not the sort of heel to—I ’ m going to be busy. Min doesn ’ t need to know I ’ m in town — unless you write and tell her.”
    “I won ’ t,” I promised him.
    I let the whole matter drop for that evening, but I found a chance mighty soon to bring the subject up in the presence of Dr. Chappell. Phil was not working but, from boredom and habit, he hung around the Clinic a good deal, especially my office.
    I encouraged this, thinking that the firebell might ring loudly enough to get him back in the operating room. It rang all right, but he was plenty stubborn.
    I pointed that out to Chappell one day at lunch. He said something about Phil ’ s looking fit, and wasn ’ t he ready to admit it?
    “He ’ s contracted a bad case of idealism,” I told the Old Man.
    “Eh?” He had a trick of flashing his eyeglasses when he was startled or angry. Now, he lifted his head sharply, and I blinked.
    “Well—” I glanced at Phil, who sat back in his chair grinning at me. “The boy thinks he should turn to research — not waste his time on people, especially women with eclampsia.”
    “Oh,” growled Chappell. “One of those.”
    “Doctor ... ” said Phil, ready to speak, for himself. “Whitley has the floor. Let him tell how your idea sounds to others.” He loudly crushed crackers into his bowl of soup.
    “Don ’ t get any idea that I agree with Phil,” I prefaced. “But he ’ s been bending my ear on the subject — You see, he got a scare up there at McCord, and decided that life was short and easily wasted.”
    “I can walk out on this,” murmured Phil. “You know that?”
    “That would be typical. You ’ re promising to walk out on your job.” I leaned toward Chappell. “That ’ s what he says he wants to do, sir. He argues that life being as short as it is, a man should waste none of it