In another family there was some stomach weakness, and three infants died. Dr. Inglis tried hard to save the life of the third, a little boy, who was evidently getting no nourishment. So anxious was she, that she asked a sister who had recently had a baby, to try if she could nurse the child. This was done, the foster mother going every day to the house, but they could not save the infant. When the next one arrived, Dr. Inglis was so determined the child should live, she came every day, whatever were her engagements, to sterilise the milk. The child throve under her care, and grew up in health.
Another of these patients of her care ‘could not control her feelings’ when speaking of the good physician. It was evident the family had lost their best friend. The husband spoke most warmly of Dr. Inglis’ kindness to them. She would come round, after she had finished her other work at night, to bath the baby. When another child was ill, she told the mother not to open the door even if the King himself wished to come in. The husband said she was so bright one felt the better for her visit, ‘though her orders had to be obeyed and no mistake, and she would tell you off at once if you did not carry them out.’ If they offered payment, she would say, ‘Now, go and buy a nice chop for yourself.’
Another family had this story. Mr. G.: ‘That woman has done more for the folk living between Morrison Street and the High Street than all the ministers in Edinburgh and Scotland itself ever did for any one. She would never give in to difficulties. She gave her house, her property, her practice, her money to help others.’ Mrs. G. fell ill after the birth of one of her children. Dr. Elsie came in one night, made her a cup of tea and some toast, and, as she failed to get well, she raised money to keep her in a sanatorium for six months. After she had been there one child, in charge of a friend, fell ill, and finally died, Dr. Inglis doing all she could to spare the absent mother and save the child. When it died, she wrote:—
‘My dear Mrs. G.,—You will have got the news by now. I cannot tell you how sorry I am for you, my dear. But you will believe, won’t you, that we all did everything we could for your dear little boy. Mrs. E. was simply goodness itself. Dr. H. and I saw him three times a day between us, and yesterday we saw him four times. When I sent you the card I hoped the high temperature was due to his teeth, because his pulse seemed good. However, later, Dr. H. telephoned that she was afraid that his pulse was flagging, and he died suddenly about one. Mr. G. has just been here; you must get well, my dear, for his sake, and for the sake of all the other little children. Poor little Johnnie has had a great many troubles in his little life has he not? But he is over them all now, dear little man. And the God in whose safe keeping he is, comfort you, dear Mrs. G.—Ever your sincere friend,
‘Elsie Maud Inglis.’
The caretaker of the dispensary in St. Cuthbert’s Mission in Morrison Street speaks of Dr. Inglis as the true friend of all who needed her. She gave an hour three mornings in the week, and if she could not overtake all the cases in the time, she would occasionally come back later in the day.
Another of her patients was the mother of twelve children; six of them were ‘brought home’ by Dr. Inglis. She was a friend to them all, and never minded what trouble she took. If they did not send for her, wishing to spare her, she scolded them for thinking of herself and not of their need for her services. All the children loved her, and they would watch from the window on her dispensary days for her, and she would wave to them across the street. She would often stop them in the street to ask after their mother, and even after she had been to Serbia and returned to Edinburgh, she remembered about them and their home affairs. She always made them understand that her orders must be carried out. Once Mrs. C. was very ill, and Dr. Inglis came to attend her. The eldest girl was washing the floor, and Dr. Inglis told her to go for some medicine. The girl continued to finish the work she was at. ‘Child,’ said Dr. Inglis, ‘don’t you know that when I say a thing I mean it?’ Another time she had told Mrs. C. to remain in her bed till she came. Household cares were pressing, and Mrs. C. rose to wash the dishes. Dr. Inglis suddenly appeared at the door. ‘What did I tell you? Do not touch another dish.’ And she herself helped Mrs. C. back to bed. Later on two of the children got scarlet fever, and Dr. Inglis told the mother she was proud of her, as, through her care, the infection did not spread in the family or outside it.
The people in Morrison Street showed their gratitude by collecting a little sum of money to buy an electric lamp to light their doctor friend up the dark staircase of the house. These were the true mourners who stood round St. Giles’ with the bairns she had ‘brought home’ on the day when her earthly presence passed from their sight. These were they who had fitted her for her strenuous enterprises in the day when the battle was set in array, and these were the people who knew her best, and never doubted that when called from their midst she would go forth strong in that spirit which is given to the weak things of the earth, and that it would be her part to strengthen the peoples that had no might.
The Little Sisters of the Poor had a dispensary of St. Anne, and Dr. Elsie had it in her charge from 1903 to 1913, and the Sister Superior speaks of the affection of the people and the good work done among them.
‘“How often,” writes one in charge of the servant department of the Y.W.C.A., “her deliberate tread has brought confidence to me when getting heartless over some of these poor creatures who would not rouse themselves, judging the world was against them. Many a time the patient fighting with circumstances needed a sisterly word of cheer which Dr. Inglis supplied, and sent the individual heartened and refreshed. The expression on her face, I mean business, had a wonderful uplift, while her acuteness in exactly describing the symptoms to those who were in constant contact gave a confidence which made her a power amongst us.”’