“Oh, nurse, stop till Dr. Mitchell’s been. I’m scared to death of him, for fear he’s going to shout at me.”
“Why does everybody put up with him?” asked innocent Alvina.
“Oh, he’s good-hearted, nurse, he does feel for you.”
And everywhere it was the same: “Oh, he’s got a heart, you know. He’s rough, but he’s got a heart. I’d rather have him than your smarmy slormin sort. Oh, you feel safe with Dr. Mitchell, I don’t care what you say.”
But to Alvina this peculiar form of blustering, bullying heart which had all the women scurrying like chickens was not particularly attractive.
The men did not like Dr. Mitchell, and would not have him if possible. Yet since he was club doctor and panel doctor, they had to submit. The first thing he said to a sick or injured labourer, invariably, was:
“And keep off the beer.”
“Oh ay!”
“Keep off the beer, or I shan’t set foot in this house again.”
“Tha’s got a red enough face on thee, tha nedna shout.”