The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1894-10-27

mere suggestion of relationship. As to
the apples. they were-well, the question
was, Where were the apples
Dr. Murray felt himself justified in
drinking little of the whiskey his mother
had sent him | am afraid he did not say
his grace. Perhaps he was too honest
man for that.
Ms. Hawker came to clear away. She
bore fragment of paper in her hand.
IT d forgot this, she said.
The doctor looked at it. In Informed
but fairly legible letters he saw the words
''Plees com ut your conyenance.
John Temple,
IA Plevna street,
.'(top. y
1t was not cheerful night. But with
in-what was there within And every
day must bring its duties. Besides that,
''at your convenance' was so delightfully."-
agreeable after the usual messages that
reached him. He went into the hall again.
pulled on his coat, took his umbrella, put
on his hat as badly as doctors usually do
and banged the front door behind him.
1t was drizzling. The air was cold
The mud was sticky There was neither
moonlight nor starlight as yet The fee
BILE rays of the street lamps made but slight
impression on the general darkness There
were several people about in the streets,
however; they were so little less comfortless
than their homes Women shuffied by
with shawls over their heads, sometimes
babies at their breasts Outside of the |
public houses, of which the doctor passed |
three in the short distance he trayersed,
stood groups of men (they were men with |
no work and consequently no money, or
they would have been inside); here and !
there boys and girls were playing in the
corners. Their play was rough, noisy,
unlovely. 1t was accompanied by much |
shrill screaming and some foul language,
By-and-by the doctor came to a narrow
street which seemed to be less well lit,
noisier, dirtier than those through which
he had already passed He had several
patients in this road, but he did not ex-
actly know where No. IA was He went
right up to the nearest door, and peered;
that was No. IL. He crossed over, pre-
suming the numbers were odds and evens
| He found No. IA
His knock brought fat, untidy woman
to the door, and several dity, large eyed
children into the hall As the children
and herself were at the time in the enjoy
ment of what they considered health, Mrs.
Bickle did not feel it incumbent to be eS
ira polite to the gentleman whom the light
nf thaa an,,rlla q. hnlI ,-o,-oalaJ Io Il,
doctor. She knew him by sight She
said: .'Well?'' inteTogatiyely
Mr.. Temple, said the doctor.
''Upstairs, please Mr.. Temple-Mr
Tempill The doctor to see yer
MIn Bickle held the candle, and she
and the children watched the gentleman
ascent of the narrow, winding stair. The
house being only two storied, he had not
far to go. Mr.. Temple, who had appar-
emily Just started to meet him. stood wait
ing till he reached the top.
Sir, he said, Il take this kind of
you
DIR. Murray could not at first discern
his face, but the tone of the voice struck
him pleasantly 1t seemed to accord with
the ''at your CONVEYANCE.
In here, please, sir. .
The man led the way into the room
Dr. Murray had seen many such rooms,
or rather he had seen many much worse
rooms. This was small; it gave evidence
of poverty; it was barely furnished But
it was bright room. Exactly why it
gave the impression of brightness it was
difficult to say; perhaps because Mr.. Tenn
pie was in it. That was the conclusion
the doctor came to afterwards
There was small fire in the CRATE A
lamp was on the round table There was
chair-only one chair-which was put
by the bedside In the bed lay woman.
Mr. Temple introduced her briefly: my
wife. -
The woman turned her eyes in the di-
rection of the doctor. That was her rec
ognition of his presence.
II thought L like you to step round
and have look at her, said Mr.. Temple
''I've feared she ism quite so well today.
There amt much the matter, is there,
Lucy? But l fancied it'd be comfort
to me if you'd see her.
When Mr. Temple said there wasn't
much the matter, it has to be borne in
mind that he had been wont to see her for
fve-and-twenty years like this.
She had stroke, and she has been
paralyzed ever since, said Mr. Temple,
simply
He did not speak in a particularly sad
voice, or as if he pitied her or himself.
The doctor looked at Mrs. Temple
1t would have been difficult to say what
her age might have been, she was such
wreck of woman She was, as a matter
of fact, ten years younger than her hus-
band, and he was going on for seventy.
She was perfectly helpless. She could
not move any part of her body without aid;
she had even lost the use of her hands,
Her face was drawn to one side by the
paralyzed muscles, and thus distorted was
bereft of any beauty it might have pos
sessed Speech was difficult to her, and
the few words she uttered were hardly ar
ticulate There was no light or color in
her face; only her eyes showed that she
was living woman. They looked straight
out, blue and clear and shining, vivid
against the parchment skin, the scant white
hair
Il fancy, said Mr.. Temple, she's
had bit of chill Do what | will, this
room draughty, and she naturally feels
the cold. She never complains, but l
know she feels the cold. Don't You,
Lucy?'
She muttered something
Yes, said Mr.. Temple, she does.
You may be sure if she owns to it there's
reason The only thing we ever quarrel
about is that she wont ever say what ails
her, unless worry it out. She's an OBJ
stinate woman, is Lucy.
The idea of applying such word to the
poor creature would have seemed ludicrous
to the doctor if it hadn' been for Temples
tone and the look in the eyes of his wife
as she turned them in the direction of the
old man.
They always turned in his direction
| when he was in the room. That was one