| OCR Text |
Show FICTION I MR. DIGGLES ON DUTY 11 Cotnc By MARY WH,TEF0RD lj Outside, the wind howled and flakes of ice made a cold noise beating the window pane. Slowly, he walked toward the telephone. After all, just as many people swore by Dr. Price as trusted Diggles. As he waited, listening to Dr. Price's telephone bell ringing, the shop door opened. Mr. Diggles put down the receiver and went to the front. Dr. Price was on the mat, stamping the snow from his feet. "Diggles, will you let me see the prescription Mrs. Tompkins just brought in?" "I was just trying to call you about it. Dr. Price. I felt there was some little inaccuracy." Dr. Price nodded. "Something told me. But I wasn't reaUy worried. wor-ried. I knew you'd catch a mistake if there was one. It's a great comfort com-fort to me to know that a substantial substan-tial man like you is checking up on me, Diggles." "I have to do what I can. A man has to do his duty." He smiled and stood up, "That's right, doctor. I guess duty becomes a habit if you do it long enough." The wind screamed into the shop as Dr. Price opened the door and went out. It was a bleak, bitter day, but in Mr. Diggles' Dig-gles' heart it was suddenly summer. TViTR. DIGGLES kept his head down as though he were studying study-ing the prescription, scarcely hearing hear-ing Mrs. Tompkinsr voice through the noise of blood thudding in his temples. When he tried to speak, his lips were dry and his tongue moved nervously over them. "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Tompkins, what was that you said?" "I said if you haven't a delivery boy I'll wait for the three o'clock bus, but I'm anxious to get back as soon as I can." He looked again at Dr. Price's cramped handwriting. "Oh, I'll deliver de-liver it, Mrs. Tompkins. I'm sorry to learn Mr. Tompkins isn't well." "I told him it's just his bad disposition dis-position coming out. I told Dr. Price I certainly I hated to drag him 3- Minilte out in weather like r-- this just for a ! Flctl" stomach ache. Doctor says he'll be all right in a day or two." Mr. Diggles took the handkerchief handker-chief from the pocket of his grey alpaca coat and wiped his forehead. The moment he used to dream of years ago, was here at last. This would cost Dr. Price his practice. The pity was. Dr. Price would never know he could have saved himself, if he hadn't made it so clear that a man who mixed prescriptions pre-scriptions wasn't supposed to know about diagnosis. Dr. Price would never know what he'd done to himself him-self when he told Mrs. White she might as well give the twins a chocolate soda as Diggles' Own Whooping Cough Mixture. Because of Dr. Price's 'new ways of doing things, no one bought Diggles' Ready Rheumatism Reliever now. Shots, it was. the doctor was giving giv-ing for everything. Not prescriptions. prescrip-tions. Manslaughter, they called it. Be wet his lips. Well, no one could expect Mr. Diggles to interfere in-terfere with Dr. Price's prescriptions pre-scriptions again. Not a second time. Though it was so many years ago, he could feel the flush of anger that flooded his face remembering the day he'd called Dr. Price up, and suggested that maybe the heart medicine he ordered for Mr. Ven-ables Ven-ables was too strong. "1 know what I'm doing. Just mind your own business. Diggles, and I can mind mine." He looked again at the prescription. prescrip-tion. There was no mistaking the symbol and he'd fill it as it stood He reached for the bottle and removed re-moved the cork. Carefully, he measured meas-ured out the prescribed dose TR. DIGGLES straightened sud- denly, staring at the partly filled mortar A feeling of nausea swept through him as he snatched it up and flung the contents into the sink. His hand, replacing the bottle bot-tle on the shelf, trembled |
