“You are most kind and obliging, but the schedule I am... it just comes and goes... thank you, no more water... is important and... intricate; no one... can complete it... except myself.
“With your permission I will rise... in a few minutes... ten o'clock, dear me... this is most unfortunate... not get down till eleven... I must really insist...” But the doctor had come, and Mr. Perkins obeyed on one condition.
“Yes, doctor, I prefer, if you please, to know; you see I am not a young person... nor nervous... thank you very much... quite so; pneumonia is serious... and double pneumonia dangerous, I understand... no, it is not that... one is not alarmed at my age, but... yes, I'll lie down... letter must go to office... dictate it to my friend... certain form... leave of absence, in fact... trouble you too much... medical certificate.”
He was greatly relieved after this letter was sent by special messenger with the key of his desk, and quite refreshed when a clerk came up with the chiefs condolences.
“My compliments to Mr. Lighthead... an excellent young official, very promising indeed... and would he step upstairs for a minute... will excuse this undress in circumstances... really I will not speak any more.
“Those notes, Mr. Lighthead, will make my idea quite plain... and I hope to revise final draft... if God will... my dutiful respect to the Board, and kind regards to the chief clerk... it was kind of you to come, most thoughtful.”
This young gentleman came into my room to learn the state of the case, and was much impressed.
“Really this kind of thing—Perkins gasping in bed and talking in his old-fashioned way—knocks one out of time, don't you know? If he had gone on much longer I should have bolted.
“Like him in the office? I should think so. You should have seen the young fellows to-day when they heard he was so ill. Of course we laugh a bit at him—Schedule Perkins he's called—because he's so dry and formal; but that's nothing.
“With all his little cranks, he knows his business better than any man in the department; and then he's a gentleman, d'y see? could not say a rude word or do a mean thing to save his life—not made that way, in fact.