It was almost dusk when we got back to the side gate.
"Good-bye," she whispered. "Go away quickly; I believe that's the
Vicar coming down the road."
Then she shut the gate with gentle swiftness in my face. I walked
round to the front door. She was in the hall.
"Hello!" she said; "I hope you had a good day at the office?"
"Thanks," I said; "pretty rotten."
"I've had a lovely day," she said; "I picked up such a nice young man
in the high road. He's taking me out to-night. He's just going to ring
up for seats."
Without a word I went to the telephone.
* * * * *
=The Right Order of Things at Last.=
"A Gentleman would be pleased to Recommend his Butler in whose service
he has been three years."--_Daily Paper._
* * * * *
"TO AMERICANS IN LONDON.--The ----, Cornwall, offers you
comfortable home while on this side; far away from the madding
crown."--_Daily Paper._
Republican prejudices respected.
* * * * *
There was a hard-swearing old sailor
Whose speech might have startled a jailer;
But he frankly avowed
That the charabanc crowd
Would not be allowed on a whaler.
* * * * *
=THE PATIENTS' LIBRARY.=
Though a West-End physician of repute, he must, I think, have had a
course of American training, if rapidity of action be any indication
thereof.
Scarcely had the maid ushered me into his study and I had taken a seat
than he came forward brusquely, looked at me with the glowering eye of
the _Second Murderer_, grasped a large piece of me in the region of
the fourth rib and barked, "You're too fat."
Having been carefully bred I refrained from retaliation. I did
not tell him that his legs were out of drawing and that he had a
frightfully vicious nose. But before I had time to explain my business
he had started on a series of explosive directions: "Eat proper food.
Plenty of open air. Exercise morning, noon and night and in between.
Use the Muldow system. You need a tonic."
He turned to his table and was, I suppose, about to draw a cheque for
me on the local chemist's when I decided to say my little piece.
"Excuse me, Sir," said I mildly, "I am not a patient."
The combination fountain-pen and thermometer almost fell from his
hand.
"I am," said I, "the sole proprietor and sole representative of the
Physicians' Supply Association. I gave your maid my card. I have
called with a thrilling offer of magazines for your waiting-room."
"What dates?" said he, a gleam of interest in his dark eye.
"All pre-war," said I proudly; "none of them are later than 1900 and
some go back to 1880."
"Not B.C.?" said he, with a look in which hope and disbelief were
mingled.
"No," said I. "All are A.D.; but they include two Reports of Missions
to Deep Sea Fishermen in 1885--very rare. I'm sure they would match
splendidly the Proceedings of the Royal Commission on Aniline Dyes
which you have in the waiting-room."
"No," said he firmly. "I have one of the most important practices in
Harley Street. I likewise possess one of the finest collections of old
magazines in the profession. That blue-book on Aniline Dyes is barely
fifty years old. It was left me by my father, and I retain it simply
through affection for him in spite of its modernity. But the rest
go back to the Crimean vintage and earlier. When you have something
really old, come to me. But"--and he threw in a winning smile in his
best bedside manner--"not till then."
I am now in search of a young practitioner who is merely starting a
collection.
* * * * *
[Illustration SCENE.--_A Flower Show: Garden Ornament Section._
_Mother._ "I DON'T CARE FOR THAT LITTLE FIGURE. HE'S TOO
EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY FOR MY TASTE."
_Critical Little Girl_ (_who has lately taken part in
tableaux-vivants_). "HOW CAN YOU TELL WHAT CENTURY HE IS, MOTHER? HE'S
GOT NO CLOTHES ON."]
* * * * *