"Hell!" said Jastrow, the Granite Jaw.
THE DOCTOR (_drawing down his shirt-sleeves_): I'll have an ambulance
around in twenty minutes.
MISS HOAG: Where for, Doctor?
THE DOCTOR: Brooklyn Public Institute, for the present.
THE LANDLADY (_apron up over her head_): Poor fellow! Poor handsome
fellow!
MISS HOAG: No, Doctor. No! No! No!
THE DOCTOR (_rather tiredly_): Sorry, madam, but there is no
alternative.
MISS HOAG: No, no! I'll pay, Doctor. How much? How much?
THE BARON: Yeh. I'll throw in a tenner myself. Don't throw the poor
devil to charity. We'll collect from the troupe. We raised forty dollars
for a nigger wild man, once when--
THE DOCTOR: Come now; all this is not a drop in the bucket. This man
needs an operation and then constant attention. If he pulls through, it
is a question of months. What he actually needs then is country air,
fresh milk, eggs, professional nursing, and plenty of it!
Miss HOAG: That's me, Doc! That's me! I'm going to fix just that for
him. I got the means. I can show you three bank-books. I got the means
and a place out in Ohio I can rent 'til I buy it some day. A farm! Fresh
milk! Leghorns! I'll take him out there, Doc.
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