Michael Malone - Weebly

Smalter's Pharmacy or that he, Deeds, should go so far
as to swallow any medication she did obtain was hardly
likely. It was hardly any likelier that Otto Scaper,
whose 1926 graduating class at the state medical school
had included only males, would suspect that the
Bredforets' chauffeur's grandchild was an M.D. At least
he didn't think so until she declined to wait outside, until
she peered around his arm as he felt the pus-inflamed
wound, until in a carefully casual tone she remarked,
"I'm a little worried about secondary septicemia. He's
probably running a slight temperature; he wouldn't let
me take it. But I'd like him to have something.
Dicloxacillin maybe." She didn't look at Scaper's face.
She was tired of seeing the shock.
Bill Deeds growled up from the examining table.
"Ruth here's a doctor, lives down in Atlanta."
"Well, I'll be damned," Scaper replied.
Dr. Deeds was long accustomed to the ordeal of
steeling herself for every first encounter with her
professional colleagues. She had been the only female
of her race in her medical school class and often felt that
it might have been easier to work her way up through