m money. Charlson was a man
not without ability; yet he did not prosper. Sundry circumstances stood
in his way as a medical practitioner: he was needy; he was not a coddle;
he gossiped with men instead of with women; he had married a stranger
instead of one of the town young ladies; and he was given to
conversational buffoonery. Moreover, his look was quite erroneous. Those
only proper features in the family doctor, the quiet eye, and the thin
straight passionless lips which never curl in public either for laughter
or for scorn, were not his; he had a full-curved mouth, and a bold black
eye that made timid people nervous. His companions were what in old
times would have been called boon companions--an expression which, though
of irreproachable root, suggests fraternization carried to the point of
unscrupulousness. All this was against him in the little town of his
adoption.

Charlson had been in difficulties, and to oblige him Barnet had put his
name to a bill; and, as he had expected, was called upon to meet it when
it fell due. It had been only a matter of fifty pounds, which Barnet
could well afford to lose, and he bore no ill-will to the thriftless
surgeon on account of it. But Charlson had a little too much brazen
indifferentism in his composition to be altogether a desirable
acquaintance.

'I hope to be able to make that little bill-business right with you in
the course of three weeks, Mr. Barnet,' said Charlson with hail-fellow
friendliness.

Barnet replied good-naturedly that there was no hurry.

This particular three weeks had moved on in advance of Charlson's present
with the precision of a shadow for some considerable time.

'I've had a dream,' Charlson continued. Barnet knew from his tone that
the surgeon was going to begin his characteristic nonsense, and did not
encourage him. 'I've had a dream,' repeated Charlson, who required no
encouragement. 'I dreamed that a gentleman, who has been very kind to
me, married a haughty lady in haste, before he had quite forgotten a nice
little girl he knew before, and that one wet evening, like the present,
as I was walking up the harbour-road, I saw him come out of that dear
little girl's present abode.'

Barnet glanced towards the speaker. The rays from a neighbouring lamp
struck through the drizzle under Charlson's umbrella, so as just to
illumine his face against the shade behind, and show that his eye was
turned up under the outer corner of its li