ht have supposed that
the doctor had been watching from his office window and
had seen the editor going along the alleyway. Coming in
at the front door and finding himself a chair, he
lighted one of the stogies and crossing his legs began
to talk. He seemed intent upon convincing the boy of
the advisability of adopting a line of conduct that he
was himself unable to define.

"If you have your eyes open you will see that although
I call myself a doctor I have mighty few patients," he
began. "There is a reason for that. It is not an
accident and it is not because I do not know as much of
medicine as anyone here. I do not want patients. The
reason, you see, does not appear on the surface. It
lies in fact in my character, which has, if you think
about it, many strange turns. Why I want to talk to you
of the matter I don't know. I might keep still and get
more credit in your eyes. I have a desire to make you
admire me, that's a fact. I don't know why. That's why
I talk. It's very amusing, eh?"

Sometimes the doctor launched into long tales
concerning himself. To the boy the tales were very real
and full of meaning. He began to admire the fat
unclean-looking man and, in the afternoon when Will
Henderson had gone, looked forward with keen interest
to the doctor's coming.

Doctor Parcival had been in Winesburg about five years.
He came from Chicago and when he arrived was drunk and
got into a fight with Albert Longworth, the baggageman.
The fight concerned a trunk and ended by the doctor's
being escorted to the village lockup. When he was
released he rented a room above a shoe-repairing shop
at the lower end of Main Street and put out the sign
that announced himself as a doctor. Although he had but
few patients and these of the poorer sort who were
unable to pay, he seemed to have plenty of money for
his needs. He slept in the office that was unspeakably
dirty and dined at Biff Carter's lunch room in a small
frame building opposite the railroad station. In the
summer the lunch room was filled with flies and Biff
Carter's white apron was more dirty than his floor.
Doctor Parcival did not mind. Into the lunch room he
stalked and deposited twenty cents upon the counter.
"Feed me what you wish for that," he said laughing.
"Use up food that you wouldn't otherwise sell. It makes
no difference to me. I am a man of distinction, you
see. Why should I concern myself with what I eat."

The tales that Doctor Parcival told Geo