not yet conscious."
"And the operation?"
"Absolutely successful."
"Despite my interruption?"
"Another marvel to us M.D.'s is the way so sensitive a thing as a womanwill hold herself in hand by sheer nerve force when it is necessary. Youdid not faint till the operation was completed."
"Now may I go?" asked the girl, with a touch of archness, as she held upthe glass and the plate, both empty.
"Yes, if you will let me share your carriage. Having led you into thispredicament, the least I feel I can do is to see you safely out of it."
"Now the hermit is metamorphosing himself into a knight," laughedConstance, merrily, "with a distressed damsel on his hands. I really neednot put you to the trouble, but I shall be glad if you will take me home."
Once again the doctor put his overcoat about her, and they descended thestairs and entered the brougham.
"Tell me the purpose of all those instruments I saw in your room," sheasked as they started.
"They are principally for the investigation of bacteria. Not beingambitious to spend my life doctoring whooping-cough and indigestion, I amstriving to make a scientist of myself."
"Then that is why you prefer hospital work?"
"No. I happen to have been born with my own living to make in the world,and when I had worked my way through the medical school, I only too gladlybecame 'Interne' here, not because it is what I wish to do, but because Ineed the salary."
"Yet it seems such a noble work."
"Don't think I depreciate it, but what I am doing is only remedial What Ihope to do is to prevent."
"How is it possible?"
"For four years my every free hour has been given to studying what is nowcalled tuberculosis, and my dream is to demonstrate that it is in fact theparent disease--a breaking down--disintegration--of the bodilysubstance--the tissue, or cell--and to give to the world a specific."
"How splendid!" exclaimed Constance. "And you believe you can?"
"Every day makes me more sure that both demonstration and specific arepossible--but it is unlikely that I shall be the one to do it."
"I do not see why?"
"Because there are many others studying the disease who are free from thenecessity of supporting themselves, and so can give far more time andmoney to the investigation than is possible for me. Even the scientistmust be rich in these days, Miss Durant, if he is to win the greatprizes."
"Won't you tell me something about yourself?" requested Constance,impulsively.
"There really is nothing worth while yet. I was left an orphan young, inthe care of an uncle who was able to do no better for me than to get me aplace in a drug-store. By doing the night-work it was possible to take thecourse at the medical college; and as I made a good record, this positionwas offered to me."
"It--you could make it interesting if you tried."
"I'm afraid I am not a realist, Miss Durant. I dream of a future thatshall be famous by the misery and death I save the world from, but my pastis absolutely eventless."
As he ended, the carriage drew up at the house, and the doctor helped herout.
"You will take Dr. Armstrong back to the hospital, Murdock," she ordered.
"Thank you, but I really prefer a walk before going to _my_ socialintimates, the bacilli," answered the doctor, as he went up the steps withher. Then, after he had rung the bell, he held out his hand and said:"Miss Durant, I need scarcely say, after what I have just told you, thatmy social training has been slight--so slight that I was quite unawarethat the old adage, 'Even a cat may look at a king,' was no longer a factuntil I overheard what was said the other day. My last wish is to keep youfrom coming to the hospital, and in expressing my regret at having beenthe cause of embarrassment to you, I wish to add a pledge that henceforth,if you will resume your visits, you and Swot shall be free from myintrusion. Good-night," he ended, as he started down the steps.
"But I never--really I have no right to exclude--nor do I wish--"protested the girl; and then, as the servant opened the front door, eventhis halting attempt at an explanation ceased. She echoed a "Good-night,"adding, "and thank you for all your kindness," and very much startled anddisturbed the footman, as she passed into the hallway, by audiblyremarking, "Idiot!"
She went upstairs slowly, as if thinking, and once in her room, seatedherself at her desk and commenced a note. Before she had written a pageshe tore the paper in two and began anew. Twice she repeated thisproceeding; then rose in evident irritation, and, walking to her fire,stood looking down into the flame. "I'll think out what I had better dowhen I'm not so tired," she finally remarked, as she rang for her maid.But once in bed, her thoughts, or the previous strain, kept her long hoursawake; and when at last she dropped into unconsciousness her slumber wasmade miserable by dreams mixing in utter confusion operating-room anddinner, guests and microbes--dreams in which she was alternately strivingto explain something to Dr. Armstrong, who could not be brought tounderstand, or to conceal something he was determined to discover. Finallyshe found herself stretched on the dinner-table, the doctor, knife inhand, standing over her, with the avowed intention of opening her heart tolearn some secret, and it was her helpless protests and struggles whichbrought consciousness to her--to discover that she had slept far into themorning.
With the one thought of a visit to the hospital during the permittedhours, she made a hasty toilet, followed by an equally speedy breakfast,and was actually on her way downstairs when she recalled her promise of agift. A glance at her watch told her that there was not time to go to theshops, and hurrying back to her room, she glanced around for somethingamong the knick-knacks scattered about. Finding nothing that she couldconceive of as bringing pleasure to the waif, she took from a drawer ofher desk a photograph of herself, and descended to the carriage.
She had reason to be thankful for her recollection, as, once hergreetings, and questions to the nurse about the patient's condition weremade, Swot demanded,
"Wheer's dat present dat youse promised me?"
"I did not have time this morning to get something especially for you,"she explained, handing him the portrait, "so for want of anything better,I've brought you my picture."
The urchin took the gift and looked at both sides. "Wotinell's dat goodfor?" he demanded contemptuously.
"I thought--hoped it might please you, as showing you that I hadforgiven--that I liked you."
"Ah, git on de floor an' look at youseself," disgustedly remarked Swot."Dat talk don't cut no ice wid me. W'y didn't youse ask wot Ise wants?"
"And what would you like?"
"Will youse guv me a pistol?"
"Why, what would you do with it?"
"I'd trow a scare into de big newsies w'en dey starts to chase me off degood beats."
"Really, Swot, I don't think I ought to give you anything so dangerous.You are very young to--"
"Ah! Youse a goil, an' deyse born frightened. Bet youse life, if youse askde doc, he won't tink it nuttin' to be scared of."
"He isn't here this morning," remarked Constance, for some reason lookingfixedly at the glove she was removing as she spoke.
The urchin raised his head and peered about. "Dat's funny!" he exclaimed."It's de first time he oin't bin here w'en youse wuz at de bat."
"Has he seen you this morning?"
"Why, cert!"
The girl opened the dime novel and found the page at which theinterruption had occurred, hesitated an instant, and remarked, "The nexttime he comes you might say that I would like to see him for a moment--toask if I had better give you a pistol." This said, she hastily began onthe book. Thrillingly as the pursuits and pursuit of the criminal classeswere pictured, however, there came several breaks in the reading; and hadany keenly observant person been watching Miss Durant, he would havenoticed that these pauses invariably happened whenever some one enteredthe ward.
It was made evident to her that she and Swot gave value to entirelydifferent parts of her message to the doctor; for, no sooner did she r
eachthe waif's bedside the next morning than the invalid announced,--
"Say, Ise done my best to jolly de doc, but he stuck to it dat youseoughtn't to guv me no pistol."
"Didn't you tell him what I asked you to say?" demanded Constance,anxiously.
"Soytenly. Ise says to 'im dat youse wanted to know wot he tought, an' hewent back on me. Ise didn't tink he'd trun me down like dat!"
"I might better have written him," murmured Miss Durant, thoughtfully. Shesat for some time silently