"You must get him to
the hospital at once."
Susan and Clara looked at each other in terror. To them, as to
the masses everywhere, the hospital meant almost certain death;
for they assumed--and they had heard again and again
accusations which warranted it--that the public hospital
doctors and nurses treated their patients with neglect always,
with downright inhumanity often. Not a day passed without
their hearing some story of hospital outrage upon poverty,
without their seeing someone--usually some child--who was
paying a heavy penalty for having been in the charity wards.
Einstein understood their expression. "Nonsense!" said he
gruffly. "You girls look too sensible to believe those silly lies."
Susan looked at him steadily. His eyes shifted. "Of course, the
pay service _is_ better," said he in a strikingly different tone.
"How much would it be at a pay hospital?" asked Susan.
"Twenty-five a week including my services," said Doctor
Einstein. "But you can't afford that."
"Will he get the best treatment for that?"
"The very best. As good as if he were Rockefeller or the big
chap uptown."
"In advance, I suppose?"
"Would we ever get our money out of people if we didn't get it
in advance? We've got to live just the same as any other class."
"I understand," said the girl. "I don't blame you. I don't
blame anybody for anything." She said to Clara, "Can you lend
me twenty?"
"Sure.
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