I remember how, that morning after noting the symptoms of his
patient, he sat a little in silent reflection. He knew that colour in
the cheek, that look in the eye - he had seen so much of it. His legs
were crossed and one elbow thrown carelessly over the back of his
chair. We all sat looking at him anxiously. In a moment he began
chewing hard on his quid of tobacco. Uncle Eb pushed the
cuspidor a bit nearer. The doctor expectorated freely and resumed
his attitude of reflection. The clock ticked loudly, the patient
sighed, our anxiety increased. Uncle Eb spoke to father, in a low
tone, whereupon the doctor turned suddenly, with a little grunt of
enquiry, and seeing he was not addressed, sank again into
thoughtful repose. I had begun to fear the worst when suddenly the
hand of the doctor swept the bald peak of benevolence at the top of
his head. Then a smile began to spread over his face. It was as if
some feather of thought had begun to tickle him. In a moment his
head was nodding with laughter that brought a great sense of relief
to all of us.
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