The Story Out of London

January 20, 1936, a bitter cold day in the back streets of a run-down area in southern London, drove a hungry young lad of eleven to ring a doorbell and beg for a glass of milk. Although he would have requested more, he knew that to do so often resulted in doors being slammed in his face. On this day, he had already been rejected twelve times but on his thirteenth try, he sensed better fortune was coming his way.

When Mrs. Bright answered the door and hearing the lad’s request, she smiled and invited him in to warm himself by the fire, while she busied her herself in the kitchen preparing the milk. When she emerged from the kitchen holding the glass of warm milk in one hand he noticed a plate of cookies in the other. They sat and talked together next to the fire for what seemed to the young lad to be quite a long time, not something he was used to having happen. He told her his name was Samuel Watson and that he had no idea where his parents were or even if they were alive. He related that he had an older brother who was on the streets with him for a time, but that scarcity caused them to split up. Sam admitted that he had been fending for himself for almost two years now.

She, too, told him of better days when she had a son and a husband—both now deceased. They talked together about their hopes and dreams and when they finally bid each other good day, the young lad thanked her and asked if there might be a small chore or two that he could do to repay her kindness. She said that she could not think of anything but that it was her privilege to have an opportunity to offer her friendship and that was pay enough.

Years passed and Mrs. Bright moved to America where she had relatives in New York. There she was able to secure a modest apartment of her own and pick up odd jobs sewing and mending garments for the more well-to-do residents of the area. In January of ’78 amidst one of the coldest and bitterest of eastern winters, she took ill and was taken to a local hospital where she was diagnosed with a rare disease that spelled a slow and painful death unless remedied by surgery. She had little money and no insurance and so was placed in a ward for the destitute.

Days passed and despite her worsening condition, she maintained a good relationship with everyone in the ward and her reputation for smiling amidst her pain and impending death became the topic of conversation in the medical lounge of the hospital.

On the 18th of January, one week after her arrival and just when it seemed that her life would be snuffed out, it was announced that she had been approved for surgery and that her procedure was scheduled in two days. While excited about the prospect of life-saving surgery, she was confused. After all, how could she afford to pay the hospital bill, much less the surgeon’s fee?

Three days following her surgery, Mrs. Bright was sitting up and already feeling much like her old self. Engaging the attending nurses in conversation, she would often confess her deep appreciation to the hospital while at the same time expressing concern for how she would pay her bill. The nurses assured her that the hospital would make arrangements for her to pay over a period of time and that she should not worry herself about it but concentrate on healing.

The day came for her release. As she prepared herself, she requested the bill. When the nurse returned with the bill, she smiled and fought back a tear as she handed it to Mrs. Bright. The total hospital and surgeon expenses read $34,950, but written in large letters across the bill were the words PAID IN FULL, signed by a Dr. S. Watson!