“Doctor,” said Mr. Fielding unsteadily, “do you think you can pull her through?”
The doctor rumbled deep in his throat.
“Pull her through!” he growled. “Pull her through! Why don't you ask me?” he snapped at Mrs. Fielding. Mrs. Fielding wiped her eyes.
“Will she get well?” she asked.
The doctor grew scarlet.
“You ask me?” he exclaimed at Chiswick, but Chiswick only looked mutely miserable, and the doctor turned and faced them.
“Pull her through!” he growled. “Yes, I'll pull her through. She's about as ill as I am, but she's as sick as a dog. Stuffed with candy. I'll prescribe—”
He turned, and, walking to the wall, tore down the rules and schedule so carefully prepared by the committee. When he faced Mr. Fielding again he seemed happier.
“How's your mother?” he asked.
Mr. Fielding gasped.