Doctor, I don't believe Joe is as well as he was last night. I think you had better come down.
As these old, old stories came leisurely into Mary's thoughts the telephone rang three times. She rose from her chair before the fire and went to answer it.
“Is this Dr. Blank's office?”
“No, his residence.”
“Is the doctor there?”
“No, but he will be down on the seven o'clock train.”
“And it's now not quite six. This is Mr. Andrews.”
Mary knew the name and the man.
“My wife is sick and I want to get a pint of alcohol for her.”
“An old subterfuge,” thought Mary, “I'm afraid he wants it for himself.” She knew that he was often under its influence.