Doctor Bates And Miss Sally, Part One Of Two

Hello there,

It's Mandy here.

Lovely to have you with me this evening.

Tonight's reading is going to be part one of a story by the American journalist Kathleen Norris.

And it's called Dr Bates and Miss Sally.

But before we begin,

Please feel free to make yourself really comfortable.

And I'll begin.

Sometimes Ferdie's jokes were successful,

Sometimes they were not.

This was one of the jokes that didn't succeed.

But as it led to a chain of circumstances that proved eminently satisfactory,

Ferdie's wife praised him as highly for his share in it,

As if he really had done something rather meritorious.

At the time it occurred,

However,

Nobody praised anybody,

And feeling even ran pretty high for a time between Ferdie and Elsie,

His wife,

And her sister Sally,

And Dr Bates.

Dr Samuel Bates was a rising young surgeon,

Plain,

Quiet,

And kindly.

He was spending a few busy months in California,

And writing dutifully home to friends and patients in Boston,

That he really could not free his hands to return just yet.

But Sally knew what that meant.

She had known business to keep people in her neighborhood before.

So she was studiously unkind to the doctor,

Excusing herself to Elsie on the grounds that nothing on earth would ever make her consider a man with fuzzy red hair and low collars.

Sally was a daughter and a dame.

The doctor was the son of Bates' blue ribbon hair renewer.

Awful facts,

Against which the additional fact that he was rich and she was not,

Counted nothing.

Sally talked all the time.

The doctor was the most silent of men.

Sally was 22,

The doctor 35.

Sally loved to flirt.

The doctor never paid any attention to women.

Altogether,

It was the most impossible thing ever heard of,

And Elsie might just as well stop thinking about it.

It's a wonderful proof of what he feels,

Said Elsie,

To have him so gentle when you are rude to him,

And so eager to be friends when you get over it.

It's a wonderful example of hair-tonic spirit,

Sally responded.

There's a good deal behind that quiet manner,

Argued Elsie.

But not the three generations that make a gentleman,

Finished Sally.

Sally was out calling one hot Saturday afternoon when Ferdy,

As was his habit,

Brought Dr.

Bates home with him to the Ferdy's little,

Horninged and shingled summerhouse in Sausalito.

Elsie with an armful of delightfully pink and white baby led them to the cool side porch and ordered cool things to drink.

Sally,

She said,

Would be home directly and join them.

Presently,

Surely enough,

Someone ran up the front steps and came into the wide hall,

And Sally's voice called a blithe,

Hello!

There was a little rattle to show that her parasol was flung down,

And then the voice again,

Unmistakably impeded by hat-pins.

Where's this family?

Did the gentleman come?

He grinned at his guest and raised a warning finger.

Hello,

Sally,

He called back.

Elsie and I are out here.

Bates couldn't come.

Operation last minute.

What,

Didn't come?

Sally called back after an instance pause.

Well,

What has happened to him?

But thank goodness,

Now I can go to the Bevis dinner tomorrow.

Operation!

I must say it's manly to send a message the last minute like that.

She hummed a second and then added spitefully,

What can you expect of hair tonic anyway?

The frozen group on the porch heard her start slowly upstairs.

Well,

I might be willing to marry him,

Added Sally cheerfully as she mounted,

But it's a real relief to snatch this glorious afternoon from the burning.

Down in a second.

Keep me some tea.

Elsie moved on the porch.

The doctor's face was crimson,

Elsie's kind eyes wide with horror.

Sally called a final reflection from the first landing.

Too bad not to have him see me looking so beautiful,

She sang frivolously.

Operation,

An important operation.

I don't believe it.

She proceeded calmly to her room and was buttoning herself into a trim linen gown when Elsie burst in,

Flushed and furious,

Cast the baby dramatically upon the bed and hysterically recounted the effects of her recent remarks.

Sally,

At first making a transparent effort to seem amused and following it with an equally vain attempt at being dignified,

Finally became very angry herself.

I declare,

I wonder,

I was going to say,

I wonder he has a friend left in the world.

As you say,

It's done now,

But it makes me furious and I don't think it shows very much savoir-faire on your part,

Elsie.

However,

We won't discuss it.

Ferdy will try one joke too many,

And then,

Sally interrupted her own tirade to state with deadly deliberation,

Unless that man goes home before dinner,

As a man of any spirit would do,

I'm going over to Mary Bevers' and you can make whatever apologies you like.

Of course he won't go,

Said Elsie,

With spirit.

The only thing to do is ignore it entirely,

And of course you'll come down.

Sally had resumed her ruffled calling costume and was now pinning on an effective hat.

Her mouth was set.

Please,

Pleaded her sister,

Inserting a gold bracelet tenderly between George's little jaws,

Without moving her eyes from Sally.

I will not,

Said Sally.

I never want to see him again.

Superior,

Big,

Calm codfish,

Too lofty to care what anyone says about him.

I don't like a man you can walk on anyway.

She began to pack things in a suitcase,

Beribboned nightwear,

Slippers,

Powder,

And small jars.

Presently she went to the door and opened it a cautious crack.

Where are they?

I don't know,

Said Mrs.

Ferdy,

Dispiritedly.

I think you're very mean.

The bedrooms opened in charming southern fashion upon open balconies,

Over whose slender rails one could look straight into the hall below.

Sally listened intently.

What a horrible plan this house is built upon,

She said.

Nothing in the world is more humiliating than to have to sneak about one's own house,

Like a thief,

Afraid of being seen.

Where's the motor?

At the side door?

Good.

I'll run it over to the Bevis's myself and Billy can come back with it.

That is,

I will if I can manage to get to the side door.

Those idiots of men are apparently looking at Ferd's rods and tackle right down there in the hall.

I can distinctly hear their voices.

I wish Ferd had thought of situations like this when he planned this silly balcony business.

The minute I open this door they'll look up,

And I'll stay up here a week rather than meet them.

They'll go out soon,

Said Elsie,

As she removed a shoehorn from contact with George's mouth.

I knew Ferd would regret this balcony,

Pursued Sally,

Eyes to the crack.

Ferd is not regretting it,

Said her sister.

Sally cast for a withering glance.

Elsie devoted herself suddenly to George.

I'll go down and lure them into the garden,

Bleated Sally presently.

Elsie obligingly picked up her son and departed,

But Sally,

Watching her go,

Was infuriated to notice that a mild request from George's nurse,

Who met them in the hall,

Apparently drove all thoughts of Sally's predicament from the little mother's mind,

For Elsie went briskly towards the nursery,

And an absolute silence ensued.

Sally went to the window,

Where her eye was immediately caught by a long pruning ladder leaning against the house a dozen feet away.

Alma,

The little waitress,

Quietly mixing a mayonnaise on the kitchen porch,

Was pressed into service,

And five minutes later Sally's suitcase was cautiously lowered on the end of a Mexican lariat,

And Sally was steadying the top of the ladder against her windowsill.

Alma was convulsed with innocent mirth,

But her big hard hands were effective in steadying the lower end of the ladder.

Sally,

Who was desperately afraid of ladders,

Packed her thin skirts tightly about her,

Gave a fearful glance below,

And began a nervous descent.

At every alternate rung,

She paused,

Unwound her skirts,

Shut her eyes,

And breathed hard.

Please don't shake it,

She said.

I didn't,

Said Alma merrily.

The ladder slipped an inch,

Settling a little lower.

Sally uttered a smothered scream.

She dared not move her eyes from the rung immediately in front of them.

Her face was flushed,

Her hair had slipped back from her damp temples.

It seemed to her as if she must already have climbed down several times the length of the ladder.

At every step she had to kick her skirts free.

Permit me,

Said a kind voice,

In the world of reeling brick walks and dwarfed gooseberry bushes below her.

Sally,

With a thump at her heart,

Finished her descent,

Reeling a little unsteadily against the doctor's shoulder as she faced about on the walk.

Her face was crimson.

To climb down a ladder,

Him looking pleasantly up from below,

And then to fall into his very arms.

Sally shook out her skirts and walked,

With one chilly inclination of the head,

For acknowledgement of his courtesy,

Toward the waiting motor.

Ferdy has promised Bill Bavis that you will spin me over in the motor,

Said the doctor,

A little timidly,

When they reached it.

Sally eyed him stonily.

Ferdy!

Why,

I had promised Bavis that I would look in to-day,

Pursued the doctor uncomfortably,

And when they telephoned about it a few minutes ago,

One of the maids said that she believed you were going right over,

And would bring me.

I have changed my mind,

Said Sally.

Perhaps you will drive yourself over.

I don't know anything about motors,

Apologised the doctor,

Gravely.

Ferd told one of the maids,

Sally said pleasantly.

Very well.

Would you get in?

They got in,

Sally driving.

They swept in silence past the lawns and into the wide,

White highway.

A watering-cart had just passed,

And the air was fresh and wet.

The afternoon was one of exquisite beauty.

The steamer from San Francisco was just in,

And the road was filled with other motor-cars and smart-traps.

Sally and the doctor nodded and waved to a score of friends.

I am as sorry as you are,

Said the doctor,

Awkwardly.

Don't mention it,

Said Sally,

Her face flaming again.

That's my brother's idea of humour.

I shall stay at the Bevis's overnight.

I,

Why,

I said I would do that,

Said Dr Bates,

Hastily.

I just called in to the maid when she telephoned Bevis and said,

Ask him if he can put me up overnight.

You see,

I've got my things.

Well then I won't,

Said Sally.

Her tone was cold,

But a side-glance at his serious face melted her a little.

This is all furdy,

She burst out,

Angrily.

Too bad to make it so important,

Said the doctor,

Regretfully.

I don't see why you should stay at the Bevis's,

Said the girl,

Fretfully.

It looked very odd when you had come to us.

I—I'm going to Glen Ellyn early tomorrow,

Anyway.

I would hate to have the Bevis's suspect.

Then I will go back with you,

Agreed the doctor,

Pleasantly.

Sally frowned.

She opened her lips,

But shut them without speaking.

She had turned the car into a wide gateway,

And a moment later they stopped at a piazza full of young people.

The noisy,

Joyous Bevis girls and boys swarmed rapturously about them.

To be continued.