“Nettie couldn't have 'phoned me at a more opportune minute to get the right answer. But I wonder if John is back. I'll see.” She rang.
“Hello.”
“Say, John, Mr. Cowan 'phoned awhile ago, and his wife was very thirsty and craved lemonade and—don't scold—I took the liberty of saying—it's awful for a thirsty person to have to wait and wait you know—and so I said I thought you would say she might have it.”
“I hope you weren't this long about it,” laughed her husband.
“Then it was all right?”
“Certainly.” Much relieved Mary hung up the receiver. “What needless apprehension assails us sometimes,” she thought, as she went singing to her broom.
“Just the same, I won't prescribe very often.”
CHAPTER XI.
It was five o'clock in the morning when the doctor heard the call and made his way to it. His wife was roused too and was a passive listener.
“Yes.”