“We’ll take the old boy out and brighten him up. First, let’s rush home and shake up a few cocktails and bring ’em down to surprise him,” was Tredgold’s inspiration.
Tredgold came into the laboratory, a half-hour later, with much clamor.
“This is a nice way to put in a moonlit spring evening, young Narrowsmith! Come on, we’ll all go out and dance a little. Grab your hat.”
“Gosh, Clay, I’d like to, but honestly I can’t. I’ve got to work; simply got to.”
“Rats! Don’t be silly. You’ve been working too hard. Here—look what Father’s brought. Be reasonable. Get outside of a nice long cocktail and you’ll have a new light on things.”
Martin was reasonable up to that point, but he did not have a new light. Tredgold would not take No. Martin continued to refuse, affectionately, then a bit tartly. Outside, Schlemihl pressed down the button of the motor horn and held it, producing a demanding, infuriating yawp which made Martin cry, “For God’s sake go out and make ’em quit that, will you, and let me alone! I’ve got to work, I told you!”
Tredgold stared a moment. “I certainly shall! I’m not accustomed to force my attentions on people. Pardon me for disturbing you!”
By the time Martin sulkily felt that he must apologize, the car was gone. Next day and all the week, he waited for Tredgold to telephone, and Tredgold waited for him to telephone, and they fell into a circle of dislike. Leora and Clara Tredgold saw each other once or twice, but they were uncomfortable, and a fortnight later, when the most prominent physician in town dined with the Tredgolds and attacked Martin as a bumptious and narrow-visioned young man, both the Tredgolds listened and agreed.
Opposition to Martin developed all at once.
Various physicians were against him, not only because of the enlarged clinics, but because he rarely asked their help and never their advice. Mayor Pugh considered him tactless. Klopchuk and F. X. Jordan were assailing him as crooked. The reporters disliked him for his secrecy and occasional bruskness. And the Group had ceased to defend him. Of all these forces Martin was more or less aware, and behind them he fancied that doubtful business men, sellers of impure ice-cream and milk, owners of unsanitary shops and dirty tenements, men who had always hated Pickerbaugh but who had feared to attack him because of his popularity, were gathering to destroy the entire Department of Public Health.... He appreciated Pickerbaugh in those days, and loved soldier-wise the Department.