The Tides of Avarice by John Dahlgren Page A

Nettletree’s house. Let’s hope he’s in.”
    âœ³Â âœ³Â âœ³Â 
    â€œDoctor Nettletree, I’ve got another patient for you,” said Sylvester, pushing the door open.
    â€œWell, you’ll just have to wait,” said Nurse O’Reilly, looking up from her magazine. “Doctor’s doing surgery, and there’s a queue.”
    She gestured around the waiting room where, sure enough, two or three other lemmings waited. There was old Mrs. Beesworth, holding the most enormous goiter in her paws in front of her. Billy Swampers had something in his paws too but it was less savory than any goiter: a brown paper bag that he seemed just to have finished using. Mrs. Perkins was there with an unidentifiable junior Perkins who’d managed to get his head stuck inside an item of porcelain usually found under people’s beds. An item not normally mentioned in polite conversation.
    â€œOh,” said Sylvester. “But this is an emergency, you see, and—”
    â€œIt’s emergency surgery that Doctor’s in,” said Nurse O’Reilly harshly. “So don’t give me none of your lip, Sylvester Lemmington, or I’ll be telling your mother.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œAnd she’ll give you what for, I can bet.”
    Sylvester distinctly heard her add, under her breath, “Little pipsqueak.”
    Doctor Nettletree had two nurses, a friendly one (“Too friendly, if you ask me,” Sylvester’s mother had once said darkly, but then had clammed up completely when Sylvester had tried to get her to explain what she meant), Nurse Gillespie, and a bullying martinet, Nurse O’Reilly. It was just Sylvester’s rotten luck that today was a day when Nurse O’Reilly was on duty.
    Still …
    He gestured behind him, and Fourfeathers obediently filled the doorway.
    More than filled it.
    The fox stooped to put his head through the doorway. He gave Nurse O’Reilly a gallant, brave but desperately suffering grin that had a remarkable number of teeth in it.
    â€œBut some emergencies,” said the nurse, trying desperately to retain her cool as she floundered toward the door to Doctor Nettletree’s consulting room, “are more urgent than others.”
    Mrs. Beesworth stared at Sylvester as if she’d like to strangle him with her goiter. She’d obviously been waiting quite a while. For a moment Sylvester felt guilty, but only for a moment. If Fourfeathers had been just another lemming, or at least lemming-sized, Sylvester would have been happy for the pair of them to sit in the waiting room for as long as need be, but the fox was far too big for that to be a sensible option. Doc Nettletree was going to have to tend to him outside.
    The unidentifiable junior Perkins made an equally unidentifiable echoing sound from within the porcelain container. Sylvester guessed it was probably a protest, but chose not to inquire.
    â€œGreat Spirit above,” exclaimed Doctor Nettletree, emerging from his consulting room with Nurse O’Reilly fluttering behind him. “A fox. I’ll be damned and double-damned!”
    â€œDoctor!” cried Mrs. Perkins, gesturing toward the anonymous occupant of the chamber utensil beside her . “There are children present!”
    â€œYes. Of course, m’dear. Terribly sorry, I’m sure. Probably scarred the innocent little mite for life.”
    â€œI think,” said Sylvester tentatively, “it might be best, Doctor, if you examined my friend in the open air?”
    Doctor Nettletree rubbed his chin. “You may be right. Nurse O’Reilly? Fetch me my—oh, where has the dratted woman gone?”
    â€œShe’s fainted,” said Mrs. Perkins.
    â€œFainted?”
    â€œShe took another look at the monster and went over like a ninepin.”
    How typical of bullies, thought Sylvester. All bluster and bravado when there’s no danger to them and other