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Parkman.
"A very bad story to tell. Miss McCormick's general reader will
say--: 'Oh yes, of course, he was just bound to have an operation.'"
"Georgia,"--this was from the man at the head of the table, and there was
something in his voice to arrest them all--"if you are in earnest about
wanting stories of doctors, why don't you tell some of the big ones? Some
of the stories medical men have a right to be proud of?"
"What are they?" she asked, promptly. "Tell me some of them."
Dr. Parkman's eyes were on his plate. He was handling his fork a little
nervously.
"If I were going to tell any stories about medical men," Karl went on,
and in his quiet voice there was still that compelling note, "it seems to
me I should want to say something about the doctors who died game--just a
little something about the men who took their medicine and said nothing;
men with the nerve to face even their own understanding--cut off, you
see, from the refuge of fooling themselves. Ask Dr. Parkman about the
surgeons who lost their hands or their lives through infection.


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