Kankakee Valley Post, Volume 11, Number 8, DeMotte, Jasper County, 9 January 1941 — MARY’S EDUCATION [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

MARY’S EDUCATION

By CHARLES HARTE

(McClure Syndicate—WNU Service.)

f* T DON'T want to be disturbed," Dr. Thomas ClemX ent told the boy who answered his office door. Then he went into his inner office, spread out writing materials, and settled himself to a difficult task. "Wish I could write a prescription and be done with it,” he thought. "How on earth does a man write to a girl he wants to propose to?” Thomas Clement was thirty-five and had never, if the truth must be told,’ proposed tb a girl. He had, for the last half dozen years, realized that he would some day probably be doing just what he was now—trying to propose to Mary Stanton. But he hadn’t known how hard it would be. Mary was the daughter of his old friend, Dr. Stanton, who had left Thomas trustee of Mary's very meager fortune. It had been on Thomas' advice that Mary had eaten into this fortune to pay for a college education. He had told her that, with a good education, she would be able to take care of herself without worrying about much of an income from her small inheritance. All the time he had known that he intended to Mary when she got through college, and that she would never be dependent either on her inheritance or on her own labors. i Thomas had not seen Mary all that last winter. She had spent her Christmas holidays with friends, and had not returned to her aunt's, where she made her home in a town a dozen miles away, until after hkr graduation. But Thomas Hhd seen her on graduation day and that was what 1 made this letter of proposal so difficult. Mary had turned put to be the most‘beautiful, most desirable, most lovely girl in the world. Far too good for him, decided Thomas. It was really hardly fair for him to think she might ever care to marry, him. So he settled himself down to his task with doubts and misgivings. "Dear Mary,” he wrote, and then stopped, pondering on the next important word. There was a knock on the door. ‘‘Who is it?” he called. Then he heard Mary’s voice. ■ "Bobby says you don’t want to be disturbed. But can I see- you? It’s awfully imr portant.” She sat down at the other side of his table. "Well, as you didn’t come to see me I came to see you.” She 11 smiled bewitchingly at him. "You haven’t been over since I got home and I got home a week ago tomorrow.” “ “Well—” started Thomas. » "Oh, don’t apologize. And don’t stop your writing. I’ve got some awfully important news, but I’ll just Wait here until you’re -through.” Thomas insisted that she tell him at once. He closed his jaws sharply to be braced against the shock that Was coming. He looked stern and old as Mary leaned across the table and took both his muscular hands in hers. ■ "Promise,”* she said, smiling again, "that you’ll take me seriously?” - • • r "I promise,” he said, feeling very uncomfortable and rather helpless, imprisoned by her charm and personality. He had tucked the letter paper, with her name on it under his blotter when she first came into the room. "Guess what I’m going to tell you!” she said. "Going to be married?” he queried, trying to seem not too concerned—just showing a guardianlike interest. ! "No! Going to be a doctor—like, you.” "For heaven’s sake,” he gasped, looking at her slight, girlish figure, and thinking of clinic and dispensary days. "What-ever put that idea into your head?” "You did, of course,” she said. "You told me to spend my money for an education. Well, nowadays when you’ve got through college you aren’t really educated. So I’m going to use it all up and borrow some in order to get the kind of education I want.” "I always thought that when you finished college you would get married,” said Thomas. "How funny! I’m not at all interested in that sort pf career—not at jail. Now, I want your advice about where to go and everything.” When Mary came back next morning to get his advice, he had made his plans. He told her that, if she ever expected to make good at medical college, she must harden herself. He would take her in his office as a helper, and she could gradually become used to the sort of work she would have to do. He would pay her a small salary and she could five at the boarding house, down the street, where she would be nearby. When Mary got to his office next morning at nine, dressed in a dainty green linen frock, he was not in. She took a rose from the bowl on his waiting-room table and tucked it into her belt, then she sat down* to read a magazine in his private office. ;

A few minutes later the doctor came into the room. “A little late, aren’t you?” he asked coolly. “I forgot to say I expect that you be

here at eight or before-morning office hours begin then. And, by the way, I meant to tell you that, in view of our present relations, I shall call you Miss Stanton and you had better call me Dr. Clement. Please wait in the outer office, and I’ll call you when I need you." That night, at nine o’clock, Mary, very weary* was working over Dr. Clement’s bills in his private office. He had told her to work there till he came back. Finally, when he did come in, she turned to him with as much of her natural enthusiasm as her fatigue had left her. But Dr. Clement merely smiled formally and took his chair. "If you have finished with those," he said, "you may go. * And remember, eight o’clock tomorrow." Mary rose and took her hat from the hanger in the entry. "I suppose,” she said, putting her head in at the door, “it’s all right for me to go'home alone? It’s an awfully dark block.” “I suppose so,” said the doctor. “And by the way, Miss Stanton, please wear a slightly more professional costume tomorrow. Something plain white, please. Roses and ruffles are all very well for a woman to wear in her own home—quite charming, in fact. But quite inappropriate in a doctor’s office.” Mary bit her lip, but tears of mortification came to her eyes. She took the fading rose from her belt and tried to hide her trembling lips in it. j * "Haven’t I been any good at all—any help?” she said in a low’ voice. "We will hope for a little steadier nerve tomorrow’,” said the doctor. "It was annoying to have you so upset over that very slight office operation this morning.” "It was very and warm,” she murmured. "It will be warmer as the summer goes on,” he said firmly. He reached over and took the rose she had left on the table, but he kept his chair as she walked slow’ly to the door. Then she turned back, tears in her pretty, tired eyes rolling over to her pale cheeks. “Perhaps,” she said, “if I’ve been such- a failure—and tried so hard—perhaps I w’on’t make a good doc? tor, after all.” ; Thomas was bn his feet and had her in his arms in a moment.

“Mary,” he said, “perhaps I’ye been too unkind. But I don’t want you to be a doctor—l want you to be a doctor’s wife.”