“I was over at the church where a social program of some sort was being given and ‘between acts’ everybody was moving about chatting. An elderly woman near me asked, ‘Mrs. Blank, do you know who the Hammell's are?’ I told her that I did not, and she went on, ‘I see by the paper that a member of their family died today, and I thought you, being a doctor's wife, might know something about it.’
“Mrs. B. spoke up promptly, ‘Why, Mrs. Blank wouldn't know anything about the dead people—her husband gets 'em well.’”
The doctor laughed, “And she believes it too,” he said.
“No doubt of it. So a compliment like that offsets one of Mrs. C.'s kind.”
“O, no. The C.'s have it by a big majority. Don't you know I have the reputation of being the meanest man in the county?”
“No, I don't.”
“Well, I have. Do you remember that drive we took a week or two ago up north?”
“That long drive?”
“Yes. When I went in the man who was a stranger to me, said, ‘I'll tell you why I sent for you. I've had two or three doctors out here, recommended as good doctors, and they haven't done me a darned bit of good. Yesterday I heard you was the meanest doctor in this county and I said to myself, “He's the man I want.”’”
“I heard you laughing and wondered what it was about. The man's wife came out to the buggy and talked to me. She said they were strangers and didn't know anything about the doctors around here—they had thought of sending down to this town for a doctor but she had spoken to a woman—a neighbor—and she had said there wasn't any of 'em any account down there. But her husband kept getting worse so they finally sent for Dr. Blank and she hoped he'd cure 'im. Are you doing it? I hope so for I assured her that the physicians of this town are recognized throughout the State as being men of exceptional ability, and she went in, comforted.”