But few patients are on his list, and these are first attended to.

The doctor then pauses for consideration.  He has set apart this day for collecting.  Past experience has taught him that the task is by no means an agreeable one.  It is necessary, however—­absolutely so—­for, as we have said before, doctors must live as well as other people; their house-rent must be paid, food and clothing must be supplied.

A moment only pauses the doctor, and then we are again moving onward.  A short ride brings us to the door of a pleasantly-situated house.  We remember it well.  It is where the little one lay in fits when we last rode out with the doctor.  We recall the scene:  the convulsed countenance of the child; the despair of the parents, and the happiness which succeeded when their beloved one was restored to them.

Surely they will now welcome the doctor.  Thankfully will they pay the paltry sum he claims as a recompense for his services.  We are more confident than the doctor.  Experience is a sure teacher.  The door does not now fly open at his approach.  He gives his name to the girl who answers the bell, and in due time the lady of the house appears.

“Ah! doctor, how do you do?  You are quite a stranger!  Delightful weather,” &c.

The doctor replies politely, and inquires if her husband is in.

“Yes, he is in; but I regret to say he is exceedingly engaged this morning.  His business is frequently of a nature which cannot suffer interruption.  He would have been pleased to have seen you.”

The doctor’s pocket-book is produced, and the neatly drawn bill is presented.

“If convenient to Mr. Lawton, the amount would be acceptable.”

“I will hand it to him when he is at leisure.  He will attend to it, no doubt.”

The doctor sighs involuntarily as he recalls similar indefinite promises; but it is impossible to insist upon interrupting important business.  He ventures another remark, implying that prompt payment would oblige him; bows, and retires.

On, on goes the faithful horse.  Where is to be our next stopping-place?  At the wealthy merchant’s, who owed so much to the doctor’s skill some two months since.  Even the doctor feels confidence here.  Thousands saved by the prevention of that fever.  Thirty dollars is not to be thought of in comparison.

All is favourable.  Mr. Palmer is at home, and receives his visiter in a cordial manner.  Compliments are passed.  Now for the bill.

“Our little account, Mr. Palmer.”

“Ah!  I recollect; I am a trifle in your debt.  Let us see:  thirty dollars!  So much?  I had forgotten that we had needed medical advice, excepting in my slight indisposition a few weeks since.”

Slight indisposition!  What a memory some people are blessed with!

The doctor smothers his rising indignation.

“Eight visits, Mr. Palmer, and at such a distance.  You will find the charge a moderate one.”