CHAPTER VIII — THE PRICE OF VENGEANCE
Dr. Wright's telephone rang early next morning. The doctor was prompt to respond. His practice had not yet reached the stage that rendered the telephone a burden. His young wife stood beside him, listening with eager hope in her wide-open brown eyes.
"Yes," said the doctor. "Oh, it's you. Delighted to hear your ring." "No, not so terribly. The rush doesn't begin till later in the day." "Not at all. What can I do for you?" "Certainly, delighted." "What? Right away?" "Well, say within an hour."
"Who is it?" asked his wife, as the doctor hung up the phone. "A new family?"
"No such luck," replied the doctor. "This has been a frightfully healthy season. But the spring promises a very satisfactory typhoid epidemic."
"Who is it?" said his wife again, impatiently.
"Your friend Mrs. French, inviting me to an expedition into the foreign colony."
"Oh!" She could not keep the disappointment out of her tone. "I think Mrs. French might call some of the other doctors."