I was sitting in my office one morning waiting for patients, much of my time was passed in this way, very often I waited in vain. The modest sign which I was allowed to put on the outside of the house,
Dr. James Fenwick
didn't seem to attract attention. Of the little practise I had, at least a third was gratuitous. Yet I was expected to pay my bills, and when my little stock of money was exhausted there seemed a doubt as to whether the bills would be paid at all.
One day I was summoned to a house where a child of three was struggling with croup. It was a serious case, and I gave up my time to the case. After several hours I succeeded in bringing the child round and pronouncing her out of danger.
When I sent in my bill, the mother said:
"Dr. Fenwick, Mary is but three years old."
"Indeed!" I returned.
I failed to understand why I should be informed of this fact.
"And," continued the mother, "I don't think any charge ought to be made for a child so young."