He had seen the little clerk suddenly raise his hand and point across
the street.
"I see it! There he is!" Mr. Neal had said in a voice exultant with joy,
and then he had dodged into the traffic, reckless of life and limb.
The chief clerk was greatly distressed. He could not work. He would sit
with his lank form huddled up in his office chair, gazing fixedly over
his eyeglasses at nothing in particular. About two o'clock he bethought
himself to look up the family with which Mr. Neal lodged in the
telephone directory and to inform them of the accident. The whole office
force listened to the conversation over the telephone, and heard the
chief's voice break as he told of the seriousness of the injury. Then
the chief clerk shut his books sharply, clapped on his street coat and
rusty straw hat, and set out for the hospital.
Long before the chief clerk arrived at the hospital, a white-coated
doctor, standing momentarily in a doorway of the ward in which Mr. James
Neal lay, met a nurse coming out. The doctor's face was such a one as
would have delighted Mr. Neal if he had been able to see it. It was a
benevolent face. A profound knowledge of the problems of humanity had
marked it with depth of understanding, and withal, a kindliness and
sympathy, that made it worthy a second and a third glance in any
company, however distinguished.
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