Life Unveiled, by a Child of the Drumlins — Chapter 10 Part II - The Medic-Concluded

My thesis, on “Heredity,” consisted mainly of quotations from authorities I had consulted in the Public Library.

The original matter in it, feeble and inadequate, was chiefly a protest against the marriage of the unfit.

I was ardently espousing the cause of Eugenics before there was such a cause, or at least before Galton’s seed-sowing had found a friendly soil.

There was an unscientific portion about pre-natal influence, and plenty of advice to prospective parents as to the need of influencing the unborn, so as to make them beautiful of body and soul.

There is nothing, I am convinced, that the Young Person hesitates to advise humanity about just as he himself is about to take his plunge into the sea of life.

Slumbering somewhere in the dusty archives of Boston University is my lengthy thesis on Heredity--slumbering?

but a thing has to live to slumber--this offspring of mine never had any life--it was still-born.

Shortly after Commencement I went to W---- to visit a former class-mate, and also to see Dr. Fenton who had “located” there.

He had called at Dr. Carson’s on my arrival, and it was agreed that she and I would go to see him the next day in his new office.

That afternoon it popped into my head to dress up as an old woman and make him think for a moment that he had a new patient.

Combing my hair down over my ears, putting on spectacles, and a black gown, bonnet, and veil, I looked very like a little elderly widow.

Dr. Carson waited at a near-by drug-store.

The lame woman in black hobbled up the steps to the young doctor’s office.

His door was ajar.

(He was expecting Dr. Carson and me.

) I purposely halted as he came toward me, that he might take in my general appearance before I spoke, the better to aid the disguise.

He looked, I thought, a bit disappointed not to see his friends, but the look gave place to one of quiet attention, and even a gleam of pleasure at acquiring a new patient.

I saw as he invited me to be seated that he had no suspicion of me, and consequently, could scarcely articulate for laughter.

Not having expected to deceive him, except for an instant, I had not thought up a story, but, suppressing my giggles, and assuming the Irish brogue, I began a story about my sick daughter.

His questions, so to the point, so professional, so serious, nearly convulsed me, but turning my suppressed laughter into pretended crying, to gain time to concoct a story, I claimed to be too distressed to talk about what was troubling me.

The Doctor gravely offered me a fan, which act, together with his guarded manner, started my risibilities afresh.

He showed clearly that he was annoyed at this queer person, but was doing his best to be patient with her.

I had gone so far, it was imperative to invent some story to account for my distress, and to my own surprise I told him, with many haltings and outbursts of grief, that my daughter, though unmarried, was, I feared, “in trouble”; and I had come to him for help.

(This from Miss Prim who, a few months before, would not let this young man brush the lint from her gown!

) Would he come to see the girl?

And my tears and sighs broke forth afresh.

He looked grave and sympathetic, yet somewhat suspicious.

As his questions became more searching, I was consumed with shame at the thought of how I should feel when he knew the truth.

But I was in for it.

I was a strange-acting old mother with my aborted giggles transformed to sobs and sighs.

He grew more suspicious, saying, at length: “I think you will be more comfortable, and can talk more easily, if you remove your veil.

” Then I was scared.

Perhaps he recognized me; perhaps he had all along;

but now, disgusted at the lengths I had gone, was taking this way to punish me.

Still, so long as he kept up the pretense, I would not throw up the game.

But from that time on I was decidedly uncomfortable and every answer I made, was made with the double feeling: Perhaps he knows, and is getting even with me; and, If he doesn’t know, this is a tremendous success.

As his inquiries progressed, I was heartily ashamed at the answers and details I was forced to submit to keep in character.

This continuing, I grew hysterical in earnest, acting more and more extravagantly, while his suspicions were more and more aroused, or his anger--I could not tell which.

He grew very stern.

Sitting back in his chair, he said decidedly, “I shall discuss this no further with you until you remove your veil.

” I would have given anything then to get away.

I felt sure he knew me.

That veil had got to come off.

Delaying, I fumbled with it, dreading to meet his eyes when my own were uncovered.

As I cried and fumbled, my hands trembling in earnest, the veil caught in the trimmings, and he got up to help me.

His face was softening, he looked sympathetic again.

Then he _didn’t_ know me after all?

or, was he carrying the sorry jest as far as he could?

The veil at last removed, I looked up in his face--afraid of him, and ready to cry at what I had done.

We gazed at each other for an instant, and then--I saw such a look of astonishment as I have seldom seen--he had not suspected me at all!

He was so overwhelmed with mortification that my own mortification vanished, and I confessed that I had been on pins and needles most of the time, fearing it was he who was getting the joke on me.

What gales of laughter went up from that office!

We had such a hilarious time we almost forgot to summon Dr. Carson who was impatiently waiting outside.

Dr. Fenton made me promise to try the same trick on Dr. James, the new interne, on my return to the hospital.

He did not dream of asking me to keep it from Laidlaw; he declared they would have to admit that I had wiped out all our old scores.

And when I told the story to Laidlaw, how delighted he was!

though he could hardly credit that Fenton, knowing me so well, could have been so long deceived.

“How could he--your voice, your hands, your eyes, even with veil and spectacles--incredible!

” Yet he revelled in it--that demure, prudish “Little Arnold” would do such a thing.

“You!

_You!

_--we thought we knew Little Arnold, but we didn’t. ” He was tickled at Fenton’s suggestion that I try the thing on James, and eager for me to start at once, begging me to let him be near to see the fun.

But I only half promised, fearing I could not carry it through if any one in the secret were about.

One night when I knew he and James were to be in the office, telling them I expected to be occupied most of the evening, so would not myself be down as usual, I borrowed some toggery from a patient, and arrayed myself in my widow’s garb; and, slipping out by a side door, came in just before dusk at the front gate, hobbling across the lawn and up to the hospital in plain sight of the young doctors sitting in the office window.

College and Hospital are in the same enclosure, and outdoor Dispensary patients were expected to be taken care of over at the College; we of the hospital-staff, being supposed to refer all cases applying there to the Dispensary department.

But knowing that James was eager for obstetric work, and that he would be likely to snap up any he could, I hoped by my tale to get him out as far as the street with me (to attend my daughter in confinement) before he should discover my identity.

Jack, the bell-boy, came to the door: Might I see the house-doctor?

“Which one?

” he asked--“the medical or the surgical doctor?

” If Laidlaw, who was the surgical interne, came, I should be undone; he would know me, and I could not keep in character with him looking on;

so I said, “Oh, the medical--don’t say anything to any one but him.

” The boy lit the gas in the waiting room and went for Dr. James.

I

quickly turned it low.

James came, curious and important.

Using the Irish brogue and the expressions used by Dispensary patients, I explained that my daughter was in labour and that I wanted him to hurry as fast as ever he could to save her life.

He was not at all suspicious.

But not yet having had an obstetric case, and learning that it was a _primipara_ (first birth), he anticipated trouble, and was averse to tackling it alone.

I

knew of what he was thinking, so feigning impatience, related symptoms which would impress him with the need of haste.

Would he come, or not?

Yes, he would come, but he must take the house-surgeon also, as he might need assistance with instruments.

Fearing the game would be up if Laidlaw appeared on the scene, I protested vehemently: I would have no one else; one doctor was enough;

my daughter’s condition should not be known to everybody--that was why I had come here instead of going to the “Dispensatory”; I was no pauper, and would pay him well, if he would come alone.

He wavered, then excused himself for a moment.

I could hear him and Laidlaw in the office discussing it.

Finally Laidlaw said, “Tell her it is customary--that you won’t undertake it under other conditions.

” I was annoyed at Laidlaw for making it more difficult for me.

James came back, conciliatory and persuasive: it was liable to be a serious case; my daughter was young; he must take help with him; it would cost no more than for one, and the utmost secrecy would be preserved; the house-surgeon would go with him and assist if need be, otherwise he must decline the case.

I said to myself, “It is mean of Laidlaw when he knew I wanted to do it alone.

But he’s bound to see me in the act, and I guess I can keep a stiff upper lip if he can.

” By that time, too, I was fairly confident.

“Let him come, then,” I said, “but hurry.

” They soon came with their obstetric bags, James excited and flurried, Laidlaw quiet and dignified.

He gave me a curt “Good evening”; and, with directions to Jack to ask Dr. Arnold to come down to the office, as he and Dr. James had been called out, we three went down the steps, I hobbling and stooping, but hurrying along between them.

At first I was a little more self-conscious with Laidlaw along, but by the time we had gone a few steps, instead of being longer provoked at him for coming, I was glad; it was such fun to be sharing it with him; his acting was perfect; he was cool and self-controlled, and James was so unsuspecting!

Laidlaw asked me a few of the usual questions.

Answering in character, I looked slyly out of the corner of my eye, expecting him to exchange surreptitious glances with me occasionally, but he looked straight ahead, sober as a deacon, probably afraid of disconcerting me.

Presently he put other questions, and still no betrayal of anything but the apparent situation.

Suddenly it dawned upon me that neither he nor James knew me!

Then I _was_ set up!

This was a triumph I could never have dreamed of--since he had heard the story of the trick played upon Fenton, and knew I intended trying it on James, too!

It was incredible, but I soon saw, beyond doubt, that he was as completely taken in (or out) as was James.

I had said to myself: “If I can only get James out on the street a way with his bag, it will be all I will ask.

” And here I had them both!

In the course of the walk I promised them five dollars apiece for their services, if they would bring my daughter safely through.

After walking a few blocks, I began to be anxious, as there was now no one at the hospital to attend to emergencies.

They, of course, thought I was there.

I must bring this to a close speedily.

Assuming an hysterical manner, so as to draw their attention more closely to me, and thus bring about the disclosure, I even took off my veil, walking in the glare of the street lamps--all to no purpose;

the more I tried to reveal myself, the more I concealed myself; they only tried to hush my noisy grief and to pacify me.

Once Laidlaw helped me to adjust my bonnet, which I nearly knocked off, purposely, by my wild jostling against them, but all in vain--the wilder my conduct, the better my disguise.

We were now several blocks away from the hospital.

I saw I must terminate it some other way.

Walking up some steps of a darkened house, I pretended to fumble for my keys, and, waiting till they had followed so close that their faces were on a level with mine, I turned, and in my own voice said, “Haven’t we carried this far enough?

” James, to whom my other masquerade was unknown, was dazed, he ran down the steps, leaned against the house, and stood there speechless, his face hid in his hands.

Laidlaw--took me in his arms; he could seem to find no other mode of expression.

Tired from the walk, and the heat, and weak from laughter, I found it a comfortable position--but was too intent on flying back to the hospital to stay in it long.

Dignified and unemotional as Laidlaw was, he let himself go that night;

his manner was charming.

I basked in his generous praise as I imagine an actor basks in the applause of his audience: “You’re a revelation, you’re an actress, you are wonderful!

Why, Little Arnold, is it really you?

Oh, James!

James!

you don’t _know_ what she’s done--you don’t know _half_ of it!

” And as we hurried home, they half-carrying me between them, the young doctors and the crazy-acting little widow traversed the Boston streets, hilarious over the whole proceeding.

Laidlaw explained to James what a signal triumph it was, in that he had not only known of the joke on Fenton, but also knew that I intended trying a similar one on him.

This appeased James’s chagrin somewhat, still he was badly cut up over it;

but Laidlaw magnanimously gave me all the credit imaginable, fairly rejoicing in having been so duped by me.

As we neared the hospital, however, it dawned upon both of them what laughing-stocks they would be when the thing was noised around, especially when Breynton and Hummel, of the Dispensary-staff, learned of it; so nothing would do but that I should try the same scheme on them.

They assured me I could do it easily, even with them looking on; and as they would let Jack know that they were back and within call, I need have no compunctions.

So, dropping behind, while they sauntered up to the College steps where Breynton and Hummel sat smoking and complaining of the hot night, I soon came hobbling up to the group.

And Laidlaw and James soon had the satisfaction of seeing Breynton and Hummel walk off with the little widow--and in the course of an hour, walk back again, chagrined beyond words, but somewhat mollified when they learned that their colleagues had also been victimized in the same way.

Each man rejoiced that the others were in the same box.

The double, yes, triple, hoax, served for conversation for many a week.

If one would instance some proof of the density of the others, he would soon be silenced by fresh proofs of his own asininity.

“It was a famous victory” was their ever-generous verdict, and it only cemented the _camaraderie_ among us.