The Disagreeable Woman

When we reached the boarding-house, the Count asked, "May I come up to your room, Dr. Fenwick?"

"Certainly. I shall be glad to have you do so." My room was a small one. I should have had to pay a higher price for a larger one. However, I gave the Count my only chair, and sat on the bed.

"Is it permitted?" he asked, as he lighted a cigarette.

"Oh, yes," I replied, but I only said so out of politeness. It was decidedly disagreeable to have any one smoke in my chamber in the evening. I could, however, open the window afterwards and give it an airing.

"Mrs. Wyman is a very fine woman," said the Count, after a pause.

"Very," I responded, briefly.

"And she is rich, is she not?" he asked, in some anxiety.

"Sits the wind in that quarter?" I thought. "Well, I won't stand in the way."

"She seems independent."

"Ah! you mean—"

"That she has enough to live upon. She never seemed to have any money troubles. I suppose it is the same with you, you no doubt draw a revenue from your estates in Italy?"

"No, no, you make a mistake. They belong to my father, and he is displease with me. He will send me no money."

"Are you the oldest son?"

"Si, signor!" but he answered hesitatingly.

"Then you will be all right some day."

"True, doctor, some day, but just now I am what you call short. You could do me a great favor."

"What is it?"

"If you could lend me fifty dollar?"

"My dear Count, it would be quite impossible. Do you think I am rich?"

"You pay five—six dollar for your ticket to hear Patti."

"It was imprudent, but I wished to hear her; now I must be careful."

"I would pay you when I get my next remittance from Italy."

"It will not be possible," I answered, firmly. "Have you asked Prof. Poppendorf?"

"No! Has he got money?"

"I think he has more than I."

"I have a special use for the money," said the Count, but I did not ask what it was.

Presently the Count rose and left me. It took twenty minutes to clear the room of the vile smell of cigarette smoke.

"After all," thought I, "there is a chance for Mrs. Wyman to become a Countess, that is if he is a real Count." Upon this point I did not feel certain.

"Well, did you enjoy Patti?" asked Miss Blagden at the breakfast table.

"Immensely. Why did you not go?"

"Because I have very little taste for music," answered the Disagreeable Woman.

"Mrs. Wyman was there."

"She sings," said Miss Blagden, with a slight smile.

"Yes, the Count was with her."

"Humph! where did they sit?"

"In the upper part of the house somewhere. I felt myself out of place among the Four Hundred. But it brought me luck."

"How is that?"

"I secured a patient, a Mr. Gregory Vincent of Madison Avenue."

"Was Gregory Vincent there? How did you make his acquaintance?"

"He was my next neighbor. He seemed to take a liking to me, confided to me that he was a victim of rheumatism, and I am to assume charge of his case."

"I am very glad," said Miss Blagden, heartily. "Do your best to cure him."

"I will."

"And don't be afraid to send him in a good bill."

"I am sure he will pay me liberally."

"It may be your stepping stone to success."

"Thank you for your kind interest."

"And how is your poor patient—Alice Mills?"

"Quite well now, but I wish she were not obliged to spend so many hours in a crowded store."

"When do you call there again?"

"I may call this morning."