“I forgot,” he said abstractedly. “Thank you, Miss Jones.” He handed her the paper. “The patient will be in about six o’clock, I think,” he added, as he disappeared.
He had not any more than got out of the room, when Dr. Hajek entered.
“Was there a telephone call for me—thank you,” as Miss Jones handed him the pad with a number scribbled on it.
He took down the telephone.
“Main 2332, please,” he said into the mouthpiece, adding aside to Miss Jones, “Any new cases this afternoon?”
“Yes, Doctor. A Mr. Gastin is coming in. I have put him in Eighteen.”
“In Eighteen! What? Oh, yes—Main 2332—” he turned again from the telephone. “Did you say you put him in Eighteen? Eighteen in the south wing?” he asked sharply.
“Why, yes,” said Miss Jones. “That was the only downstairs room left.”
“But——” began Dr. Hajek, only to be interrupted by the operator’s voice again. “Yes. Main 2332—Oh, there you are. Yes, this is Dr. Hajek. What’s that? . . . Did you take his temperature? Oh—yes I see. . . . Try a hot water bag and a little warm milk. . . . Yes. . . . Yes.” He hung up with a click. “About that new patient, Miss Jones, I really don’t think it wise to put him in Eighteen. If he is inclined to be nervous——”
I was tired of discussing the matter.