Then with a delicious sense of freedom she went to bed and slept as sweetly as in the long-ago when the telephone was a thing undreamed of.
The ting-a-ling-ling-ling—came as Mary was pouring boiling water into the teapot, just before six on a cool July evening. The maid was temporarily absent and Mary had been getting supper in a very leisurely way when she saw her husband step up on the porch. Then her leisure was exchanged for hurry. The doctor's appearance before meal time was the signal to which she responded automatically—he had to catch a train—someone must have him right away, or what not? She must not keep him waiting a minute. She pushed the teapot back on the stove and went swiftly to the 'phone.
“Is this Dr. Blank's office?” asked a disturbed feminine voice.
“No, his residence. He is here. Wait a minute, please, and I will call him.”
She hurried out to the porch, “Isn't papa here?” she asked of her small boy sitting there.
“He was.”
“Well, where is he now?”
“I don't know where he is.”
Provoking! She hurried back. He must be in the garden. An occasional impulse to hoe sometimes came over him (especially if the day happened to be Sunday).