in embarrassment and half in irritation.
"How is your leg?" she asked, in an attempt to divert the boy's attentionand to conceal her own feeling.
"Say. Did youse know dey done it up in plaster, so dat it's stiff as abat?" responded the youngster, eagerly. "Wish de udder kids could see it,for dey'll never believe it w'en Ise tells 'em. I'll show it to youse ifyouse want?" he offered, in his joy over the novelty.
"I saw it put on," said Constance. "Don't you remember?"
"Why, cert! Ise remembers now dat--" A sudden change came over the boy'sface. "Wheer's dem cloes youse promised me?" he demanded.
"Oh, I entirely forgot--"
"Ah, forgit youse mudder! Youse a peach, oin't youse?" contemptuouslybroke in the child.
Miss Durant and Dr. Armstrong both burst out laughing.
"Youse t'ink youse a smarty, but Ise know'd de hull time it wuz only a bigbluff dat youse wuz tryin' to play on me, an' it didn't go wid me, nah!"went on the youngster, in an aggrieved tone.
"Isn't he perfectly incorrigible?" sighed Constance.
"Ise oin't," denied the boy, indignantly. "Deyse only had me up onct."
With the question the girl had turned to Dr. Armstrong; then, finding hiseyes still intently studying her, she once more gave her attention to thewaif.
"Really, I did forget them," she asserted. "You shall have a new suit longbefore you need it."
"Cert'in dat oin't no fake extry youse shoutin'?"
"Truly. How old are you?"
"Wotcher want to know for?" suspiciously asked the boy.
"So I can buy a suit for that age."
"Dat goes. Ise ate."
"And what's your name?"
"Swot."
"What?" exclaimed the girl.
"Nah. Swot," he corrected.
"How do you spell it?"
"Dun'no'. Dat's wot de newsies calls me, 'cause of wot Ise says to depreacher man."
"And what was that?"
"It wuz one of dem religious mugs wot comes Sunday to de Mulberry Park,see, an' dat day he wuz gassin' to us kids 'bout lettin' a guy as had hityouse onct doin' it ag'in; an' w'en he'd pumped hisself empty, he says tome, says he, 'If a bad boy fetched youse a lick on youse cheek, wot wouldyouse do to 'im?' An' Ise says, 'I'd swot 'im in de gob, or punch 'im inde slats,' says I; an' so de swipes calls me by dat noime. Honest, now,oin't dat kinder talk jus' sickenin'?"
"But you must have another name," suggested Miss Durant, declining tocommit herself on that question.
"Sure."
"And what is that?"
"McGarrigle."
"And have you no father or mother?"
"Nah."
"Or brothers or sisters?"
"Nah. Ise oin't got nuttin'."
"Where do you live?"
"Ah, rubber!" disgustedly remarked Swot. "Say, dis oin't no police court,see?"
During all these questions, and to a certain extent their cause, Constancehad been quite conscious that the doctor was still watching her, and nowshe once more turned to him, to say, with an inflection of disapproval,--
"When I spoke to you just now, Dr. Armstrong, I did not mean to interruptyou in your duties, and you must not let me detain you from them."
"I had made my morning rounds long before you came, Miss Durant," equablyanswered the doctor, "and had merely come back for a moment to take a lookat one of the patients."
"I feared you were neglecting--were allowing my arrival to interfere withmore important matters," replied Miss Durant, frigidly. "I never knew adenser man," she added to herself, again seeking to ignore his presence bygiving her attention to Swot. "I should have brought a book with meto-day, to read aloud to you, but I had no idea what kind of a story wouldinterest you. If you know of one, I'll get it and come to-morrow."
"Gee, Ise in it dis time wid bote feet, oin't Ise? Say, will youse git oneof de Old Sleuts? Deys de peachiest books dat wuz ever wroten."
"I will, if my bookshop has one, or can get it for me in time."
"There is little chance of your getting it there, Miss Durant," interposedDr. Armstrong; "but there is a place not far from here where stories ofthat character are kept; and if it will save you any trouble, I'll gladlyget one of them for you."
"I have already overtaxed your kindness," replied Constance, "and so willnot trouble you in this."
"It would be no trouble."
"Thank you, but I shall enjoy the search myself."
"Say," broke in the urchin. "Youse ought to let de doc do it. Don't yousesee dat he wants to, 'cause he's stuck on youse?"
"Then I'll come to-morrow and read to you, Swot," hastily remarked MissDurant, pulling her veil over her face. "Good-bye." Without heeding theboy's "Dat's fine," or giving Dr. Armstrong a word of farewell, she wenthurrying along the ward, and then downstairs, to her carriage. Yet oncewithin its shelter, the girl leaned back and laughed merrily. "It'sperfectly absurd for him to behave so before all the nurses and patients,and he ought to know better. It is to be hoped _that_ was a sufficientlybroad hint for his comprehension, and that henceforth he won't do it."
Yet it must be confessed that the boy's remark frequently recurred thatday to Miss Durant; and if it had no other result, it caused her to devotean amount of thought to Dr. Armstrong quite out of proportion to thelength of the acquaintance.
Whatever the inward effect, Miss Durant could discover no outward evidencethat Swot's bombshell had moved Dr. Armstrong a particle more than herless pointed attempts to bring to him a realisation that he was behavingin a manner displeasing to her. When she entered the ward the nextmorning, the doctor was again there, and this time at the waif's bedside,making avoidance of him out of the question. So with a"this-is-my-busy-day" manner, she gave him the briefest of greetings,and then turned to the boy.
"I've brought you some more goodies, Swot, and I found the story," sheannounced triumphantly.
"Say, youse a winner, dat's wot youse is; oin't she, doc? Wot's de noime?"
Constance held up to him the red and yellow covered tale. "_TheCracksman's Spoil, or Young Sleuth's Double Artifice"_ she read outproudly.
"Ah, g'way! Dat oin't no good. Say, dey didn't do a t'ing to youse, diddey?"
"What do you mean?"
"Dey sold youse fresh, dat's wot dey did. De Young Sleut books oin't nogood. Dey's nuttin' but a fake extry."
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Constance, crestfallenly. "It took me the wholeafternoon to find it, but I did think it was what you wanted."
"I was sceptical of your being able to get even an approach to newsboyliterature, Miss Durant," said Dr. Armstrong, "and so squandered the largesum of a dime myself. I think this is the genuine article, isn't it?" heasked, as he handed to the boy a pamphlet labelled _Old Sleuth on theTrail_.
"Dat's de real t'ing," jubilantly acceded Swot. "Say, oin't de womendoisies for havin' bases stole off 'em? Didn't Ise give youse de warm tipto let de doc git it?"
"You should thank him for saving you from my stupid blunder," answered thegirl, artfully avoiding all possibility of personal obligation. "Would youlike me to read it to you now?"
"Wouldn't Ise, just!"
Still ignoring Dr. Armstrong, Constance took the seat at the bedside, andopening the book, launched into the wildest sea of blood-letting andcrime. Yet thrillingly as it began, she was not oblivious to the fact thatfor some minutes the doctor stood watching her, and she was quiteconscious of when he finally moved away, noiselessly as he went. Once hewas gone, she was more at her ease; yet clearly her conscience troubledher a little, for in her carriage she again gave expression to somethought by remarking aloud, "It was rude, of course, but if he will behaveso, it really isn't my fault."
"Constance took the seat at the bedside"]
The gory tale, in true serial style, was "continued" the next andsucceeding mornings, to the enthralment of the listener and the amusementof the reader, the latter finding in her occupation as well a convenientreason for avoiding or putting a limit to the doctor's undisguisedendeavours to
share, if not, indeed, to monopolise, her attention. Evenserials, however, have an end, and on the morning of the sixth reading theimpossibly shrewd