y work, and believed I could get on with patients. My house was an
excellent one for my purpose, and I had already put the essentials of
furniture into it. The game was not played out yet. I jumped to my feet
and clenched my hand, and swore to the chandelier that it never should
be played out until I had to beckon for help from the window.

For the next three days I had not a single ring at the bell of any sort
whatever. A man could not be more isolated from his kind. It used to
amuse me to sit upstairs and count how many of the passers-by stopped to
look at my plate. Once (on a Sunday morning) there were over a hundred
in an hour, and often I could see from their glancing over their
shoulders as they walked on, that they were thinking or talking of the
new doctor.

This used to cheer me up, and make me feel that something was going on.

Every night between nine and ten I slip out and do my modest shopping,
having already made my MENU for the coming day. I come back usually with
a loaf of bread, a paper of fried fish, or a bundle of saveloys. Then
when I think things are sufficiently quiet, I go out and brush down
the front with my broom, leaning it against the wall and looking up
meditatively at the stars whenever anyone passes. Then, later still,
I bring out my polishing paste, my rag, and my chamois leather; and I
assure you that if practice went by the brilliancy of one's plate, I
should sweep the town.

Who do you think was the first person who broke this spell of
silence? The ruffian whom I had fought under the lamp-post. He is a
scissors-grinder it seems, and rang to know if I had a job for him. I
could not help grinning at him when I opened the door and saw who it
was. He showed no sign of recognising me, however, which is hardly to be
wondered at.

The next comer was a real bona fide patient, albeit a very modest one.
She was a little anaemic old maid, a chronic hypochondriac I should
judge, who had probably worked her way round every doctor in the town,
and was anxious to sample this novelty. I don't know whether I gave her
satisfaction. She said that she would come again on Wednesday, but her
eyes shifted as she said it. One and sixpence was as much as she could
pay, but it was very welcome. I can live three days on one and sixpence.

I think that I have brought economy down to its finest point. No doubt,
for a short spell I could manage to live on a couple of pence a day; but
what I am doing now is not