Dr Finlay's Casebook by AJ Cronin

privilege will be extended to you for a period of three years, and the price at which you may purchase the entirely renovated house is that price fixed for the old, unrenovated property.’
    Before Finlay could speak or recover from the shock of this magnificent, unexpected and unsolicited gift, the Secretary continued, concluding, ‘The committee make this gesture with all
their good will and gratitude for the splendid service you have rendered to the community from your earliest days as a qualified medical practitioner.’ Then in a quiet voice, intimate and
friendly, ‘Come away down to my office lad, and we’ll celebrate your good future wi’ a wee dram o’ Glenloch.’
    Naturally, Finlay was delighted with his acquisition and often, when unobserved, would slip down quietly to enter the house and examine all the fine furnishings which also had
so unexpectedly become his own. And slowly the question formed in his mind: what should he do with this treasure? If only he were married, his dilemma would be solved. And what a marvelous and
appropriate gift for the woman he loved. Alas, there was no such woman. Unkind fate had so arranged his life that he seemed fated to be, and to remain, a bachelor.
    What then must he do with his house? The good Dr Cameron, somewhat slighted by the preferential treatment shown to his assistant, did not fail to drop a little acidity into the situation.
    ‘And when will ye be moving into your grand new house, Finlay?’ or, ‘Don’t ye think ye should advertise in the local Tribune : “Gentleman, handsome and
distinguished, with large furnished house, desires wife. Apply with photograph and testimonials”.’ While Finlay took this in good part it crystallised his purpose to stop treating his
house as a beautiful toy, but instead to put it to good and useful purpose. He sat down and wrote a long letter to his friend, the matron of a children’s hospital, explaining his purpose and
asking her to call and see him – and his house.
    The matron came immediately and, to Finlay’s surprise and discomfiture, was not at all the motherly figure he knew so well. No, she was not grey-haired, stiff in the knee joints and
visibly corseted. As she advanced unsmiling, with hand outstretched in greeting, he saw that she was young, tall and supple, with neat feet and lovely legs. As if that were not enough to disarm him
she was, absolutely and without question, a very beautiful young woman.
    ‘Although we have never met, I assume that you are Dr Finlay. I am Miss Lane, the new matron at the children’s hospital and I gratefully accept the offer of your house and garden as
a convalescent home for our children, subject of course, to the completion of certain necessary arrangements.’
    ‘Such as?’ inquired Finlay.
    She smiled, a calm superior smile. ‘You cannot convert a beautiful private house to a home for young children without certain adjustments. May I therefore have the privilege of inspecting
your house now?’
    Finlay immediately got up and, without a word, led the way through the lovely garden to his house, and flung open the door.
    She entered gracefully, as one accustomed to luxurious surroundings and, followed by the silent Finlay, closely examined the house and its furnishings. Examining minutely the carpets of the
large dining-room she said mildly, ‘You know of course what you have here, doctor?’
    ‘Of course,’ Finlay said shortly, ‘Orientals.’
    She shuddered visibly. ‘For God’s sake, don’t use that atrocious word which encompasses all the rubbish sold at Shepherd Market. This, for example,’ (she indicated an
elegant rug with a beautiful floral design), ‘is a perfectly lovely Kirman Lavar, a Persian Flower Carpet of the ninth century with thousands of stitches in a single six-inch square. Why, a
peasant woman may have given her entire lifetime to the creation of this noble work of art. Now this rug, and your others, which are equally fine, must be