doctors for; had him when Jim was born; had him through a queer fever
Nandy developed that lasted some time; had him through a bad case of
grippe I got (this was at Christmastime, and Carl took care of both
babies, did all the cooking, even to the Christmas turkey I was well
enough to eat by then, got up every two hours for three nights to change
an ice-pack I had to have--that's the kind of man he was!); had him
vaccinate both children; and then, just before we left Cambridge, we sat
and held his bill, afraid to open the envelope. At length we gathered
our courage, and gazed upon charges of sixty-five dollars for
everything, with a wonderful note which said that, if we would be
inconvenienced in paying that, he would not mind at all if he got
nothing.

Such excitement! We had expected two hundred dollars at the least! We
tore out and bought ten cents' worth of doughnuts, to celebrate. When we
exclaimed to him over his goodness,--of course we paid the sixty-five
dollars,--all he said was: "Do you think a doctor is blind? And does a
man go steerage to Europe if he has a lot of money in the bank?" Bless
that doctor's heart! Bless all doctors' hearts! We went through our
married life in the days of our financial slimness, with kindness shown
us by every doctor we ever had. I remember our Heidelberg German doctor
sent us a bill for a year of a dollar and a half. And even in our more
prosperous days, at Carl's last illness, with that good Seattle doctor
calling day and night, and caring for me after Carl's death, he refused
to send any bill for anything. And a little later, when I paid a long
overdue bill to our blessed Oakland doctor for a tonsil operation, he
sent the check back torn in two. Bless doctors!

When we left for Harvard, we had an idea that perhaps one year of
graduate work would be sufficient. Naturally, about two months was