overtasked patience, smiled with a
baffled air, seemed once or twice about to speak, but doubtful what to
say, and let his hand sink.

"Well, Doctor,"--he rested his elbow on his knee, gave the piece one
more turn over, and tried to draw the physician's eye by a look of
boyish pleasantness,--"I'll not ask you to take pay in advance, but I
will ask you to take care of this money for me. Suppose I should lose
it, or have it stolen from me, or--Doctor, it would be a real comfort to
me if you would."

"I can't help that. I shall treat your wife, and then send in my bill."
The Doctor folded arms and appeared to give attention to his driver.
But at the same time he asked:--

"Not subject to epilepsy, eh?"

"No, sir!" The indignant shortness of the retort drew no sign of
attention from the Doctor; he was silently asking himself what this
nonsense meant. Was it drink, or gambling, or a confidence game? Or
was it only vanity, or a mistake of inexperience? He turned his head
unexpectedly, and gave the stranger's facial lines a quick, thorough
examination. It startled them from a look of troubled meditation. The
physician as quickly turned away again.

"Doctor," began the other, but added no more.

The physician was silent. He turned the matter over once more in his
mind. The proposal was absurdly unbusiness-like. That his part in it
might look ungenerous was nothing; so his actions were right, he rather
liked them to bear a hideous aspect: that was his war-paint. There was
that in the stranger's attitude that agreed fairly with his own theories
of living. A fear of debt, for instance, if that was genuine it was
good; and, beyond and better than that, a fear of money. He began to be
more favorably impressed.

"Give it to me," he said, frowning; "mark you, this is your way,"--he
dropped the gold into his vest-pocket,--"it isn't mine."

The young man laughed with visible relief, and rubbed his knee with his
somewhat too delicate hand. The Doctor examined him again with a milder
glance.

"I suppose you think you've got the principles of life all right, don't
you?"

"Yes, I do," replied the other, taking his turn at folding arms.

"H-m-m! I dare say you do. What you lack is the practice." The Doctor
sealed his utterance with a nod.

The young man showed amusement; more, it may be, than he felt, and
presently pointed out his lodging-place.

"Here, on this side; Number 40;" and they alighted.

CHAPTER III.

HI