The Disagreeable Woman

"I will go with you. I have a plan for them."

Miss Blagden accompanied me to the poor house. She was so kind and gentle that I did not understand how any one could call her the Disagreeable Woman.

In a few days, thanks to her, Mrs. Mills was installed as housekeeper to a wealthy widower in Fifty-seventh street. Alice was made governess to two young children, and Frank was provided with a home in return for some slight services.

CHAPTER XVII.

MY RICH PATIENT

When I was admitted to the house of Gregory Vincent, I was surprised by its magnificence. It has been said that there are few palaces in Europe that compare in comfort and luxury with a first class New York mansion. I have never been in a palace, and Mr. Vincent's house was the only aristocratic house which I had had an opportunity to view. But I am prepared to indorse the remark.

I handed my card to the liveried servant who opened the door.

"Dr. Fenwick," he repeated. "Yes, sir; you are expected."

He led me upstairs into an elegant library, or sitting-room and library combined. Here sat my acquaintance of the evening before, with his foot swathed in bandages and resting on a chair, while he was seated in a cosy arm-chair.

"Good-morning, doctor," he said. "I am glad to see you. You see that I am in the grasp of my old enemy."

"We will try to rout him," I said, cheerfully.

"That sounds well, and encourages me. Do you know, Dr. Fenwick, that without any special reason I feel great confidence in you. You are a young man, probably not more than half as old as my regular physician, but he has not been able to do me any good."

"And I hope to be able to do so."

"I suppose you have had experience in such cases?"

"Yes, I have an old aunt who had suffered untold tortures from rheumatism. She put herself under my charge, and for her sake I made an extensive study of rheumatic cases and remedies."

"Well?" he asked, eagerly.

"I finally cured her. It is now three years since she has had a twinge."

"Good! My instinct was correct. That gives me hopes of success under your charge. Don't be afraid to lose your patient by effecting a speedy cure. I will make you a promise. When you have so far cured me that I am free from rheumatic pains for three months, I will hand you a check for a thousand dollars."

"A thousand dollars!" I repeated with sparkling eyes. "That will indeed be an inducement."

"Of course I shall pay you your regular fees besides."

I could hardly credit my good fortune. I was like one who had just received intelligence that I had drawn a large sum in the lottery. I determined to win the promised check if there was any chance.

I began to question Mr. Vincent as to his trouble. I found that it was a case of rheumatic gout. A difficult case, but very similar to that of my aunt. I resolved to try the same treatment with him.

I wished to ask some questions, but he forestalled them.

"I have no wife," he said. "I was left a widower many years ago. My niece and myself constitute our whole family."

"Don't you feel lonely at times?" I asked.

"Yes. My niece has her friends, suited to one of her age, but little company for me. If I had a nephew now—like yourself—it would cheer me up and give me a new interest in life."

"I wish you were my uncle," I said to myself.

"I am an old man, but I have great interest in young company. I think it was that that drew me toward you at Patti's concert. When I learned that you were a physician I saw that I could make it worth your while to call on an old man. I hope you are not a very busy man."

"Not yet," I answered, guardedly. I felt that it would be unwise to let him know how far from a busy man I was.

"Then you will be able to call upon me every day."

"I will do so gladly, but it will not be necessary—from a medical point of view."

"No matter! I shall be glad to have you come, and of course I pay for your time. It will be an advantage, no doubt, to have your patient under constant observation."

"That is true."

"Now I won't put you to the trouble of keeping an account of your visits. I will agree to pay you twenty-five dollars a week if that will be satisfactory."

Twenty-five dollars a week! Why I scarcely made that sum in fees in a month.

"It is more than I should think of charging," I said, frankly.

"Then it is satisfactory. Your money will be paid you at the end of every week."

When I left the house I felt as if I had suddenly come into a fortune. Now I could see my way clear. The little stock of money which still remained to me would suffer no further diminution. On the contrary, I should be able to add to it.

It is said that there comes to every man once in his life a chance to succeed. Apparently mine had come to me, and this chance had come to me through the Disagreeable Woman.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE PROFESSOR'S BOOK

For some weeks matters went on quietly at our boarding-house. Prof. Poppendorf, in spite of the failure of his matrimonial schemes, ate, smoked, and drank as tranquilly as ever. Ruth was grateful to him that he had accepted her refusal as final, and disturbed her no more. They still sat near each other at the table, but there was never anything in his manner to indicate that there had been any romantic passages between them.

The Disagreeable Woman remained as great a mystery as ever. Sometimes she was absent for three or four days together. Then she would suddenly reappear. No one ever asked where she had been. It would have taken rare courage to do that. Nor did she ever volunteer any explanation.

Whether she possessed large means or not no one could conjecture. She always paid her board bill, and with unfailing regularity, at the end of every week. Her dress was always plain, but oftentimes of costly material. She seldom indulged in conversation, though she was always ready with an answer when spoken to. Perhaps I may mention as exceptions to her general rule of reticence the young woman from Macy's and myself. She seemed to feel more kindly toward us than toward any of the others.

There had been various attempts to find out where she lived. None had succeeded. One day Mrs. Wyman asked the question directly.

"Where do you live, Miss Blagden, if you will allow me to ask?"

"I will allow you to ask," returned the Disagreeable Woman, coolly. "Do you propose to call on me?"

"If you will permit me."

"It is hardly necessary. We meet at the table every day. I am a hermit," she added after a pause, "I do not care to receive visitors."

"I once heard of a hermit who lived in one of the cottages on the rocks near Central Park," said the widow, rather impertinently.