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Richmond, Grace S. (Grace Smith), 1866-1959

"Mrs. Red Pepper"

That's what
they'll continue to do if you give them a chance. See here, you don't
mean to quit your profession and take to carpentry, do you?"
"I expect to practise medicine," Leaver said, and there was a queer
setting of his lips as he said it.
"Medicine! You? Jack, you couldn't do it."
"Couldn't I? I don't know that I could." He drew a half shuddering
breath. "But I can try, somewhere, if not in Baltimore."
"I'd like to thrash you!" cried Red Pepper Burns, and he looked it.
"Standing there the picture of a healthy man and telling me you're going
to take to doling out pills and writing prescriptions.... See here. We've
put in a little surgery up there in the north wing, it's a peach of a
place. Come and see it."
He led the way rapidly back up to the house, in at the door and up the
stairs. At the end of a long corridor he threw open the door of a small
room, whose whole northern side was of glass. Its equipment was as
complete as could be asked by the most exacting of operating surgeons.
"Good!" Leaver cried, quite forgetting himself for the moment. "I had no
idea you meant to carry things so far as this. Fine!"
"Isn't it? Could you have a better place to try your hand again? Nobody
looking on but Amy Mathewson, Miss Dodge--whom you met downstairs--and
Dr. Buller--for the anesthetic.


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