“I can't get it without a prescription from a physician, you know. She needs it right away.”
“The thirst is on him,” thought our listener, pityingly.
The voice went on, “Mrs. Blank, couldn't you just speak to the druggist about it so I could get it right away?”
“Mr. Andrews,” she said hastily, “the druggist would pay no attention to me. I'm not a physician, you know. The doctor will be here in an hour—see him,” and she hurried the receiver into its place, anxious to get away from it. This was a story that was entirely new to her. Never before had she been asked to procure a prescription for alcohol or any of its attendant spirits. She liked the old stories best.
The doctor had been to the city and had got home at four o'clock in the morning. He had had to change cars in the night and consequently had had little sleep. When the door-bell rang his wife awakened instantly at the expected summons and rose to admit him. In a little while both were fast asleep. The wife, about a half hour later, found herself struggling to speak to somebody about something, she did not know what. But when the second long peal came from the 'phone she was fully awakened. How she hated to rouse the slumberer at her side.
“John,” she called softly. He did not move.
“John!” a little louder. He stirred slightly, but slept on.
“John, John!”
“Huh-h?”