The attending physicians arrived at nine. The "shop," as they called it, opened at ten; Lindsay was due at eleven and departed at three. Thereafter the hive gradually emptied, and by four the stenographers and clerks were left alone to attend to purely business matters. Sommers came late the day after his return from New York. The general door being opened to admit a patient, he walked in and handed his coat and hat to the boy in buttons at the door. The patient who had entered with him was being questioned by the neat young woman whose business it was to stand guard at the outer door.
"What is your name, please?"
Her tones were finely adjusted to the caste of the patient. Judging from the icy sharpness on this occasion, the patient was not high in the scale.
"Caroline Ducharme," the woman replied.
"Write it out, please."
The patient did so with some difficulty, scrawling half over the neat pad the clerk pushed toward her.
"You wish to consult Dr. Lindsay?"
"The big doctor,—yes, mum."
"Did he make an appointment with you?"
"What's that?"