The report in the morning was that George was better!
It was a lovely Sabbath in May. The doctor's wife had been out on the veranda, looking about her. Everywhere was bloom and beauty, fragrance and song. Long she sat in silent contemplation of the scene. At last a drowsiness stole over her and she went in and settled herself for a doze in the big easy chair.
Soon a tinkling fell upon her drowsy ear.
“Oh! that must have been the telephone. I wonder if it was two rings or three—I'd better listen,” she said with a sigh as she pulled herself up.
“Is this Dr. Blank?” The voice was faint and indistinct.
“Hello?” said Mary's husband's voice, with the rising inflection.
“Hello?” A more pronounced rise. No answer.
“Hello!” falling inflection. Here Mary interposed.