"Put an extra cup and saucer on the table,"he said;"the doctor may want some coffee.""The doctor,sir?"The servant girl whipped a spoon out of a pan,and spilt two drops of grease on the stove."Shall I fry something extra?"But the master had gone,slamming the door after him.He walked down the street--there was nobody about at all--dead and alive this place on a Sunday morning.As he crossed the suspension bridge a strong stench of fennel and decayed refuse streamed from the gulley,and again Andreas began concocting a letter.He turned into the main road.The shutters were still up before the shops.Scraps of newspaper,hay,and fruit skins strewed the pavement;the gutters were choked with the leavings of Saturday night.Two dogs sprawled in the middle of the road,scuffling and biting.
Only the public-house at the corner was open;a young barman slopped water over the doorstep.
Fastidiously,his lips curling,Andreas picked his way through the water.
"Extraordinary how I am noticing things this morning.It's partly the effect of Sunday.I loathe a Sunday when Anna's tied by the leg and the children are away.On Sunday a man has the right to expect his family.
Everything here's filthy,the whole place might be down with the plague,and will be,too,if this street's not swept away.I'd like to have a hand on the government ropes."He braced his shoulders."Now for this doctor.""Doctor Erb is at breakfast,"the maid informed him.She showed him into the waiting-room,a dark and musty place,with some ferns under a glass-case by the window."He says he won't be a minute,please,sir,and there is a paper on the table.""Unhealthy hole,"thought Binzer,walking over to the window and drumming his fingers on the glass fern-shade."At breakfast,is he?That's the mistake I made:turning out early on an empty stomach."A milk cart rattled down the street,the driver standing at the back,cracking a whip;he wore an immense geranium flower stuck in the lapel of his coat.Firm as a rock he stood,bending back a little in the swaying cart.Andreas craned his neck to watch him all the way down the road,even after he had gone,listening for the sharp sound of those rattling cans.
"H'm,not much wrong with him,"he reflected."Wouldn't mind a taste of that life myself.Up early,work all over by eleven o'clock,nothing to do but loaf about all day until milking time."Which he knew was an exaggeration,but he wanted to pity himself.
The maid opened the door,and stood aside for Doctor Erb.Andreas wheeled round;the two men shook hands.
"Well,Binzer,"said the doctor jovially,brushing some crumbs from a pearl-coloured waistcoat,"son and heir becoming importunate?"Up went Binzer's spirits with a bound.Son and heir,by Jove!He was glad to have to deal with a man again.And a sane fellow this,who came across this sort of thing every day of the week.
"That's about the measure of it,Doctor,"he answered,smiling and picking up his hat."Mother dragged me out of bed this morning with imperative orders to bring you along.""Gig will be round in a minute.Drive back with me,won't you?
Extraordinary,sultry day;you're as red as a beetroot already."Andreas affected to laugh.The doctor had one annoying habit--imagined he had the right to poke fun at everybody simply because he was a doctor.
"The man's riddled with conceit,like all these professionals,"Andreas decided.
"What sort of night did Frau Binzer have?"asked the doctor."Ah,here's the gig.Tell me on the way up.Sit as near the middle as you can,will you,Binzer?Your weight tilts it over a bit one side--that's the worst of you successful business men.""Two stone heavier than I,if he's a pound,"thought Andreas."The man may be all right in his profession--but heaven preserve me.""Off you go,my beauty."Doctor Erb flicked the little brown mare."Did your wife get any sleep last night?""No;I don't think she did,"answered Andreas shortly."To tell you the truth,I'm not satisfied that she hasn't a nurse.""Oh,your mother's worth a dozen nurses,"cried the doctor,with immense gusto."To tell you the truth,I'm not keen on nurses--too raw--raw as rump-steak.They wrestle for a baby as though they were wrestling with Death for the body of Patroclus.Ever seen that picture by an English artist.Leighton?Wonderful thing--full of sinew!""There he goes again,"thought Andreas,"airing off his knowledge to make a fool of me.""Now your mother--she's firm--she's capable.Does what she's told with a fund of sympathy.Look at these shops we're passing--they're festering sores.How on earth this government can tolerate--""They're not so bad--sound enough--only want a coat of paint."The doctor whistled a little tune and flicked the mare again.
"Well,I hope the young shaver won't give his mother too much trouble,"he said."Here we are."A skinny little boy,who had been sliding up and down the back seat of the gig,sprang out and held the horse's head.Andreas went straight into the dining-room and left the servant girl to take the doctor upstairs.He sat down,poured out some coffee,and bit through half a roll before helping himself to fish.Then he noticed there was no hot plate for the fish--the whole house was at sixes and sevens.He rang the bell,but the servant girl came in with a tray holding a bowl of soup and a hot plate.
"I've been keeping them on the stove,"she simpered.
"Ah,thanks,that's very kind of you."As he swallowed the soup his heart warmed to this fool of a girl.
"Oh,it's a good thing Doctor Erb has come,"volunteered the servant girl,who was bursting for want of sympathy.
"H'm,h'm,"said Andreas.
She waited a moment,expectantly,rolling her eyes,then in full loathing of menkind went back to the kitchen and vowed herself to sterility.
