The Disagreeable Woman

"Then you don't think she needs any medicine?"

"No."

There was still that anxious look on the mother's face. Alice was the breadwinner, and she was sick. How were they to live?

An idea came to me.

"I will call again to-morrow morning," I said, cheerfully.

"You are very kind, doctor. I should like to pay you, but we are so miserably poor."

"Don't let that trouble you for a moment. I can give you some of my time, for of that I have plenty."

CHAPTER XII.

THE DISAGREEABLE WOMAN IN A NEW LIGHT

I have said that I had an idea. The destitute condition of this poor family weighed upon me, and excited my sympathy. With my scanty means I could give them only advice, but could I not secure help from others.

Mrs. Gray, my landlady, would perhaps furnish a supply of food, but though a good woman in the main she was not inclined to be charitable. She was inclined to be suspicious of those who applied to her for help, and I did not want to subject Mrs. Mills to any new sorrow or mortification. Among my fellow boarders, I could not think of one to whom I could apply, except—well, yes, except the Disagreeable Woman. Under her cynical exterior I suspected there was a sympathetic heart, though I believe that I alone gave her credit for it. I resolved to speak to her about my poor patient.

As the reader already knows, I sat next to Miss Blagden at the table. Toward the close of supper I said in a low voice: "If you will allow me, Miss Blagden, I will walk with you a short distance after supper. I have something to say to you."

She looked surprised, but answered promptly, "I shall be glad of your company."

This was the most agreeable speech I had heard from her since our acquaintance commenced.

Nothing more was said till I found myself walking by her side toward Broadway.

"Now?" she said, expectantly.

"I am going to take a liberty," I said. "I am going to try to interest you in a poor family. I of course know nothing of your means, but my own are so limited that in spite of my profound sympathy I can only give my medical services, while more is needed."

"Go on, doctor," she said, and there was unwonted kindness in her tone.

I told her the story in brief words, and she seemed interested.

"Your young patient has no organic disease?" she inquired.

"None whatever. She is ill-nourished, and works too hard. That is the whole story."

"They are very poor."

"You can judge. Their income cannot be more than seven dollars and a half, and of this the girl earns six dollars. Her sickness will entail some outlay, and there is only the boy to earn money now."

"It is very sad, doctor. How little we whose wants are provided for know of the sufferings of the poor! But fortunately," she added, and a rare smile lighted up her features and made her positively attractive, in spite of her name, "fortunately there is a remedy. When do you see this poor family again?"

"I shall call to-morrow morning after breakfast."

"And in the meantime do you think they will suffer for the lack of food?"

"It may be so. I don't think they have much money in the house?"

"Do you think you could make it convenient to call there this evening?"

"Yes, I am sure I could. Their poor home is less than half a mile distant from our boarding-house."

"Then, doctor, be kind enough to hand them this."

She drew out her purse and handed me a five dollar bill.

I suppose I showed the joy I felt.

"Miss Blagden," I said, "you could not give me a more agreeable commission."

"I believe it, doctor."

There was an unwonted softness in her tone, and her smile was positively attractive.

How could we call her the "Disagreeable Woman?"

CHAPTER XIII.

MRS. WYMAN'S CURIOSITY

I was passing our boarding-house on my return from the walk with Miss Blagden when Mrs. Wyman tapped on the window, and opened it.

"I saw you!" she said, in a bantering tone.

"At supper?"

"No, I saw you walking away with Miss Blagden. So you are smitten at last!"

I smiled.

"I assure you," I said, "there is nothing between us."

"You seem uncommonly attentive," and I thought there was something of pique in her tone.

"What can I do?" I answered. "You have forsaken me, and devote yourself to the Count."

"As if I could forget you!" she said, in a sentimental tone.

If she had known how utterly indifferent I was to her favor or disfavor she would hardly have been complimented. She had transferred her attentions to Count Penelli, but she still wished to retain her hold upon me.

"By the way," she said, suddenly, "are you going to hear Patti during her present engagement?"

"Do you take me for a millionaire?"