“Would you consider two weeks—?”

“Oh, one, please!”

“It is understood, of course, that this young man is a duly qualified and capable physician, and that in the event of my finding it otherwise I shall be at liberty to direct your check to other uses?”

“Oh, I can answer for his being all right, Bishop.  He’s thoroughly up-to-date, you know; does the X-ray act; and keeps the pace of modern science.”

“You say you can answer for him,” said the bishop genially.  “Might I inquire who you are.”

“I’m named Westoby—­Ezra Westoby—­managing partner of Hodge & Westoby, boxers.”

“I like boxers,” said the bishop in the tone of a benediction, rising to dismiss me.  “I like one thousand dollar checks, too.  When you have any more to spare just give them a fair wind in this direction!”

I went out feeling that the Episcopal Church had risen fifty per cent in my esteem.  Bishops like that would make a success of any denomination.  I like to see a fellow who’s on to his job.

I gave Jones a week to grapple with the new developments, and then happened along.  The anteroom was full, and there was a queue down the street like a line of music-loving citizens waiting to hear Patti.  Nice, decent-looking people, with money in their hands. (I always like to see a cash business, don’t you?) I guess it took me an hour to crowd my way up stairs, and even then I had to buy a man out of the line.

Jones was carrying off the boom more quietly than I cared about.  He wore a curt, snappy air.  I don’t know why, but I felt misgivings as I shook hands with him.

Of course I commented on the rush.

“The Lord only knows what’s happened to my practice,” he said.  “The blamed thing has gone up like a rocket.  It seems to me there must be a great wave of sickness passing over New York just now.”

“Everybody’s complaining,” I said.

This reminded him of my insomnia till I cut him short.

“What’s the matter with our going down to the Van Coorts’ from Saturday to Tuesday,” I said.  “They haven’t given up the hope of seeing you there, Doctor, and the thing’s still open.”

Then I waited for him to jump with joy.

He didn’t jump a bit.  He shook his head.  He distinctly said “No.”

“I told you it was the money side of it that bothered me,” he explained.  “So it was at the time, for, of course, I couldn’t foresee that my practice was going to fill the street and call for policemen to keep order.  But, my dear Westoby, after giving the subject a great deal of consideration I have come to the conclusion that it would be too painful for me to revive those —­those—­unhappy emotions I was just beginning to recover from!”

“I thought you loved her!” I exclaimed.

“That’s why I’ve determined not to go,” he said.  “I have outlived one refusal.  How do I know I have the strength, the determination, the hardihood to undergo the agonies of another?”