Sarah said shrilly, “Why isn’t the doctor here! Why isn’t anything being done! He may even be—right here before our eyes!”
Mr. Bailey said, “Quiet, Sarah. He’ll be along any minute. The intern says Biff’ll keep the way he is, a while.”
Sarah began to bawl.
Jimmie walked closer to his brother. His grin was amiable, only a little bit sardonic. “Your pretty puss is unscratched, anyhow!”
“I must have thrown my hands over my face at the time. A protective reflex. I dunno….”
Then the surgeon arrived. He was dressed in white and he walked fast, like a man entering from the wings, for an act. “Well!” he exclaimed. “What have we here?” Jimmie thought it was close to tops for asininity.
Mr. Bailey said, “My son’s pretty badly hurt, Doctor Cather. It goes without saying, of course, that no expense is to be spared. Specialists from Chicago, New York, by air—if they can help you in any way. Everything!”
The surgeon was grinning at his patient. Biff grinned back. His mother said, “Money doesn’t mean a thing, doctor!”
Then the surgeon said something that revised Jimmie’s opinion of him. It made Jimmie think that he was probably a whacking good surgeon. “Oh, I’ll send you a stiff bill, Mrs. Bailey. Never worry about that!” He took the hem of the blanket that covered Biff. “You folks better run along while I have a look. Come back after dinner. Say around nine, ten o’clock.”
Jimmie glanced at the intern. He had not in any way noticed the man until then.