"But what is it you're going to write," asked the doctor, "a eulogy or denunciation?"
"Both; something characteristic."
"Meaning that something characteristic about doctors would include both good and bad?"
"Well, they're pretty human, aren't they?" laughed Georgia.
"And think how grateful we should be," ventured Karl, "for the inference of something good."
Dr. Parkman looked over at him with a hearty: "That's right," relieved that his friend could enter into things at all.
In the library before they came in, things had gone badly. Mrs. McCormick held persistently to the topic of Karl's eyes, putting forth all sorts of "home remedies" which would cure them in a night. He had grown nervous and irritable under it, and Mrs. Hubers several times had come to the rescue with her graciousness. She was worried herself; the doctor could see that in the way she looked from her husband to him, scenting something not on the surface. He was just beginning to fear the dinner was going to be miserable for them all, when Miss McCormick broke the tension by asking for stories.
"Tell us what you're going to write, Georgia," said Ernestine, she too seizing at it gratefully, "and then our doctors will have a better idea of what you want."
"Well, I was talking to Judge Lee the other day, and he told me some good stories about lawyers—characteristic stories, you know. So I thought I would work up a little series—lawyers, doctors, ministers and so on, and see how nearly I could reach the characteristics of the professions through the stories I tell of them; not much of an idea, perhaps—but I know a man who will buy the stuff."
Ernestine was smiling in a knowing little way. "Do you want to begin with something really characteristic?" she asked.