Dr. Englehart had been suggested in the beginning by Mrs. Clayton, as his medical attendant, but rejected by me with a shudder, that seemed conclusive; yet one evening, unsummoned by me, and as far as I knew by any other, he walked calmly into my apartment, ostensibly to see the little invalid—­his charge as well as mine.

For a moment the extravagant idea possessed me that, in spite of appearances, I had done this man injustice, and that he came in reality for humane purposes alone; wore his disguise for these.

This delusion was soon dissipated, as with audacity (no doubt characteristic, though not before evidenced to me), he seated himself complacently and uninvited, and, disposing of his hat and stick, settled himself down for a tete-a-tete, an affair which, if medical, usually partakes of the confidential.

“Your little protege, Miss Monfort,” he said, huskily, “seems to be a serious sufferer,” and for a moment dropping his accent while he rubbed his gloved hands together as with an ill-repressed self-gratification; “come, tell me now what you are doing for his benefit,” again artistically assuming a foreign accentuation.

In a few words I described my course of treatment and its success.

“All very well,” he responded, hoarsely, “as far as it goes; but I am convinced that much severer treatment will he necessaire—­”

“I think not,” I replied, curtly; “and certainly nothing of the kind will be permitted by me while I have charge of this poor infant.”

“A few leetle pills, then, for both mother and child;” he suggested, humbly.

“You are mistaken if you imagine any relationship to exist between Ernie and myself,” I answered, calmly, never dreaming at the moment of covert or intended insult.  “I might as well inform you at once, that I am Miss, not Mrs. Monfort; you should he guarded how you make mistakes of that nature.”

And my eye flashed fire, I felt, for I now heard him chuckling low in the shadow, in which he so carefully concealed himself.

“I shall remembair vat you say,” he observed, “and try to do bettair next visit; but all dis time I delay in de execution of my mission here.  See, I have brought you von lettair; now vat will you do to reward me?”

Holding it high above my head, in a manner meant, no doubt, to be playful, and to suggest a game of snatch, perhaps, such as his peers might have afforded him, he displayed his treasure to my longing eyes, “but I sat with folded arms.

“If the letter brings me good news, I shall thank you warmly, Dr. Englehart; if not, I shall try to believe you unconscious of its contents.”

“Tanks from your lips would, indeed, seem priceless,” he remarked, courteously, as with many bows and shrugs he laid it on the table before me, bringing his shaggy head by such means much closer to my hand than I cared to know it should be, under any circumstances.