Part 9

“Well, he looked it over and made sure it was sound in American law. But essentially it’s a copy of a medical contract in force before Hippocrates ever rolled a pill. It’s the old logical Chinese form, whereby the doctor’s duty is prescribed as warding off sickness, not curing it. Is that old-fashioned enough for you, grandma?”

“Chinese! My land!” said the old lady. “What do they know about sickness?”

“They know the one most important fact in all medical practice, ma’am,” said Dr. Strong, “that the time for locking the stable door is before the horse is stolen, and that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.”

II. IN TIME OF PEACE

“How is the Chinese plan working?” asked Mr. Thomas Clyde, stretching himself on the lounge in Dr. Strong’s study.

One week before, the doctor had been officially installed, on the Oriental principle of guarding the Clyde household against intruding sickness. In that time he had asked few questions. But Mr. Clyde, himself a close observer, noted the newcomer’s quietly keen observation of the children, and sometimes of Mrs. Clyde, as they met at mealtime. He had remarked, too, that the nervous tension of the man was relaxing; and guessed that he had found, in his new and unique employment, something of that panacea of the troubled soul, congenial work. Now, having come to Dr. Strong’s wing of the house by request, he smilingly put his question, and was as smilingly answered.

“Your Chinese physician has been making what the Chinese call a ‘go-look-see.’ In other but less English terms, a reconnaissance.”

“In what department?”

“Earth, air, and water.” The other waved an inclusive hand.

“Any results?”

“Oh, all kinds. Preliminary report now ready. I’d like to make it a sort of family conference.”

“Good idea! I’ll send for Mrs. Clyde and Grandma Sharpless.”

“Children out of town?” inquired Dr. Strong suggestively.

“Of course not. Oh, I see. You want us all. Servants, too?”

“The cook certainly. She should be very important to our council of war. Perhaps we might leave the rest till later.”

They gathered in the spacious study; and Grandma Sharpless glanced round approvingly.

“It’s like family prayers,” she commented.

“Concerted effort is a sort of prayer, if it’s honest,” said Dr. Strong gravely. “I’ve never had much of an opinion of the man who gets up in meeting to beg the Lord for sound health for himself and family and then goes home and sleeps with all his windows closed.”

“There are no closed windows in this house,” said Grandma Sharpless emphatically. “I see to that, having been brought up on fresh air myself.”

“You show it,” returned the doctor pleasantly.

“And I’ve noticed that this house breathes deep at night, through plenty of open windows. So I can save my own breath on that topic. Just now I want to talk milk.”

“All our milk comes from my farm,” said the head of the family. “Cows are my hobby. You ought to see the place, Strong; it’s only ten miles out.”

“I have seen the place.”

“What do you think of it?”

“I think you’d better get your milk somewhere else for a while.”

“Why, Dr. Strong!” protested Mrs. Clyde. “There isn’t a woman among my friends who doesn’t envy me our cream. And the milk keeps sweet—oh, for days, doesn’t it, Katie?”

“Yes’m,” replied the cook. “Three days, or even four, in the ice-box.”

“Doesn’t that show it’s pure?” asked Mrs. Clyde triumphantly.