The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1882-11-04

II am sure you will find it quite unne-
cessary to come again, unless some unfor-
seen"
''Tut, tut, DIR. Merrifeld not one of my
many medical advisers ever told me not to
come again. assure you l shall come
again, whatever you may say, and many
times, too; and hope to send others of the
family here. We all have wretched con-
stitutions; all except Lucia; I've often want
ed her to see doctor, butts no good; the
girl never complains, even of headache"
This time [ really smiled. II am sure
we doctors are only too glad to see a lady
in perfect health The present excited life
which many of them lead''-but Mr.. Dill
lon was not listening to me, for he sudden
ly turned round (for he hadrisen to leave),
coughed violently, and then, after nerv-
GUS fumbling among the pockets of his great
coat, he said:
"Bless mel I had nearly forgotten an
important little matter Believe me, sir, l
never gave fee with greater pleasure or
more gratitude" He pressed his fat hand
into mine, and felt small round thing
slipped de1terously into my palm. [ then
went to release the vision of fair hair from
my den, and at once hoped that if Mr..
Dillon did come again Miss Lucia would
always accompany him. escorted the
pair to the front door, and just as Mr.. Dill
lon had entered the carriage his daughter
made pretense to run back for glove.
"Please forgive me, DIR. Merrifeld, she
said, looking right up into my face with
most anxious expression on her sweet coun-
tenance. "Please forgive me, but what do
you really think of Papa?'
'In excellent health, Miss Dillon; pray
don't be anxious" But before she could
say any more her father called her impa-
tiently, and she was gone with just one
sweet smile and "Thank you so much,
for all the world as if had just cured her
father of some obstinate disease.
And now, clasping my first fee, return
ed to my ROOM There l unclasped my
hand and in the middle of my palm lay
bright, hard, yellow, ginger lozenge!
The expectation had been great, and the
realization was so small that [ burst out
laughing at my own bad luck and my dis
comfture. Yet not for moment did it
enter my head to acquaint my patient with
his mistake. | felt sure if [ did so the
vison of golden hair would blush with con-
fusion, even though did not see her, and
the blue, truthful eyes would look troubled" ="
"No, my first fee was not worth guinea,
but such as it was, [ did not hate it, be-
cause-ah, well, [ ight well call myself a
fool for even fancying that l, Arthur Mer-
rifeld, penniless and unknown, should for
moment dream that had fallen in love
at first sight with my rich patients only
daughter.
I put the lozenge away in box, and that
night I again slept the sleep of a feeless
physician.
CHAPTER III.
The next day I found myself thinking
of a vision of fair hair, instead of taking in
the sense of clever treatise on the anato-
my of the hand, which certainly could in
no way be connected with the events of
the day before. Curiously enough, how
ever, about eleven o'clock, cab drove up
to the door, and what was my astonish-
ment-I need hardly say pleasure-when
Miss Dillon, followed by an elderly maid,
made her appearance. There she stood,
as fair and soft and beautiful as the day
before, but, if possible, more shy and en-
barrassed. The little hand she held out to
me trembled visibly, as she said
''Oh, DIR. Merrifeld, can you forgive me
for disturbing you this morning? don't
know how [ made up my mind to come,
but I felt I must, even if, if" She
paused, and tears almost came into her
blue eyes, while I could think of no words
suitable enough to set her mind at rest,
being ignorant of what she wanted to say.
'Indeed, Miss Dillon, if there is any
thing I can do for you 1 shall be delighted;
so beg you will not apologize for troub-
ling me"
at isn't that exactly" she answered,
once more looking at me in most dis
tressed manner.
"Perhaps you require further particulars
as to your fathers health. [ must repeat
what I said yesterday"
"Oh, thank you, it was so kind of you;
he was much better last night; [ know you
will do him good; but that was not what l
wanted to ask you-oh, dear you will
think me SO rude, or else an impostor, Or
Or"
"Impossible," 1 said more vehemently
than the case required.
II don't know how to begin; I mean,
perhaps you don't know the peculiar way
papa keeps his accounts !"
I was startled at this question. Remem-
bering the yellow lozenge in a box, 1 thought
1 could say I did know one of Mr.. Dillon's
peculiar ways of paying fees, but not for
the world would | tell this blushing, shy,
bewitching girl before me the truth
II don't presume" began.
"Oh, no, am sure you dont-I was
going to tell you about it. Papa always
makes his confidential man, Baker, put the
same change every morning into his pock-
cts, and in the evening, when Baker turns
out the pockets, he just puts down in book
what is missing, and makes up the number
of the coins the next morning. He does
it just the same every morning"
was getting rather puzzled myself now,
and could think of nothing more original
to say than:
"Indeedr"
eyes, it'squite true, or you see, I Ishouldn' t
have known about it." (Here the fair
vision blushed still more.) "Baker puts in
a sovereign, half-sovereign, crown piece
he finds these rather difficult to get some
times-half-a-crown, a shilling, sixpence,
fourpenny piece, threepenny piece, a
penny, halfpenny, and farthing"
"a very complicated way of keeping
ones money, isn't it ? or, perhaps, compli-
Gated for Baker," said, feeling it perfect
ly impossible to repress smile, though Miss
Dillon's sweet, earnest mouth kept so grave.