Chapter II

Mrs. Barrington used all her maternal arts to quiet the little patient. He did not appear to suffer any pain, and his respiration was apparently as free as ever. In a short time, her efforts were successful, and Charley sunk away into a peaceful slumber.

It was half an hour before Dr. Broadbeam arrived. It was possible he had used all convenient despatch in waiting upon his influential patron; but being a man of two hundred pounds, his swiftest movements were necessarily slow.

Dr. Broadbeam had the reputation of being a very skilful physician; but unfortunately he had such a “grouty” way of dealing with his patients and patrons, that his popularity in Millbrook was on the decline. People did not like to be “snapped up” when they were sick; and the only circumstance that enabled Dr. Broadbeam to retain even a moiety of the practice of the village, was the fact that Mr. Barrington still employed him.

At the suggestion of a small portion of the population, who had the hardihood to break away from Mr. Barrington’s lead, a young physician of good parts, and with an easy and pleasing address, had been induced to locate himself in the village. Dr. Broadbeam raved like a madman at the advent of the interloper, stigmatized him as a quack, and obstinately refused even to be civil to him. But when a year in the young doctor’s professional experience had passed away without sensibly augmenting his practice, he condescended to laugh at him, and call him a fool. The crusty old leech felt that he could have every thing his own way; that his skill and experience were amply sufficient to offset his morose address and sour temper.

To get out of a warm bed in the middle of a cold December night, is never agreeable to any body, unless perchance the house be on fire; and young gentlemen who aspire to the honors of the medical craft ought to think of this before they choose the profession.

To Dr. Broadbeam night duty was especially unpleasant. He was rather indolent and luxurious in his habits, and always made it a rule to believe that poor folks could wait till morning before they had the doctor. But when Mr. Barrington summoned him, why, it was quite another affair.

“What’s the matter with the child?” growled Dr. Broadbeam, as he entered the apartment.

“I don’t know, doctor, but I am very much afraid of the croup,” replied Mr. Barrington, handing the physician a chair.

“Humph!”

“The croup prevails to some extent in the village, you are aware,” added the nervous father.

“Always does at this season of the year,” replied the doctor, bending over the child to listen to his respiration.

“Does he breathe naturally, doctor?” asked Mrs. Barrington, to whom her husband’s alarm had to some extent communicated itself.

“Naturally?” sneered the physician. “Nothing under the sun ails the child.”

“What made him cry so, doctor?” inquired Mrs. Barrington.

“Cry so, madam? cry so! You gave him too much supper, madam; and I am tumbled out of my bed to see a child that has the stomach ache!” growled the doctor, enraged when he thought of the comfortable bed which he had been so unceremoniously compelled to leave.

“But his cough, doctor?” said Mr. Barrington, controlling his indignation at the rudeness of the physician.

“Mr. Barrington, you are a fool!” exclaimed Dr. Broadbeam, as he violently jammed his hat upon his head. “Do you think I am to leave my bed on a cold night like this, whenever your baby sneezes? Humph!”

“You are a physician, are you not?” asked Mr. Barrington.

He was angry; but keeping down his indignation, he put the question with tolerable calmness.

“A physician! Of course I am; but is that any reason why I should be turned out in the dead of the night for nothing at all?” replied the enraged leech.

“You chose your own profession.”

“What if I did?”

“What is your charge for a night visit?”

“Five dollars, sir! Five dollars!” answered the doctor, maliciously.

“And you believe that I am able to pay it?”

“I do, or I would not have come.”

“That is enough, sir; if I am content to pay five dollars for the assurance of a physician that nothing ails my child, I take it that I am at liberty to do so.”

“Humph!”

“When I send for a physician, I consider it a business transaction. He gives me his advice for the money I pay him. If his conduct entitles him to be cherished as a friend—as an angel sent with healing balm for the soul as well as the body,”—and Mr. Barrington looked sternly at the doctor,—“I cheerfully accord him his due.”

“Well, sir!”

“If I send for my millwright, I do not leave it optional with him to determine whether I need him or not. If he does not choose to come, there are other millwrights in the state.”

“Do you compare a physician to a millwright?” sneered the doctor.

“If I send for my millwright to come and tell me whether my water wheel needs repairs, he comes; he examines it; perhaps he decides that nothing is the matter with it, and that I ought to have known that it was perfectly sound. If he should reproach me for sending for him, I should call him no business man. I pay him for his time, though he lift not an axe.”

“Humph!”

“It is a great satisfaction to me to know that nothing ails my child. I am able and willing to pay for that assurance.”

“Pay! Do you take me for a hireling?” exclaimed the doctor, with a fresh outbreak of anger, as he abruptly turned on his heel and left the chamber.