I had been practising nine days when I received my first office call. The time had seemed very long since that day after my arrival, when Dr. M---- had called me in consultation. I had begun to feel that the waiting time was going to be no joke. But on that momentous day, a working-girl strayed into my office. Listening to her symptoms, I prescribed as carefully as I could, calmly took the seventy-five cents office-fee, and ushered her out in my most professional manner. When the door had closed upon her, I literally danced for joy; the capers I cut would have made an onlooker laugh--or cry, for it had its pathetic side. There was so much at stake; it meant so much to me, to my family, and friends--and here was the beginning! a patient had actually come to me! I had to be careful lest the physicians whose offices were each side of mine should hear my demonstrations. I ran to the mirror and stood on tip-toe (it was hung high for Dr. Wyeth), and looked for sympathy into my own sparkling eyes, and saw my flushed face, and felt half ashamed, and wholly elated, as I nodded and smiled to myself. Then I skipped about the room again, until I remembered my new account-book with its lone entry. Proudly making my second entry, I then recorded in my case-book the patient’s symptoms and my prescription. I do not recall that she ever came again, but hope the _bryonia_ which I gave her for rheumatism helped her as much as her coming helped me. This was my red-letter day, for scarcely had I become presentable from the elation of that first call when another patient came. I felt like an old hand at the business as I gave her the medicine and carelessly took the office-fee. Although I had had patients for two years in dispensary and hospital, these were the first who had paid me for my services. A check for several months of my present salary, put into my hands this minute, could not produce the elation I felt at receiving those paltry office-fees. As though that were not enough for one day! My cup literally ran over when, in the evening, the telephone rang and there was a hurry call from the hotel across the way. Seizing my medicine-case, which I had heretofore been unnecessarily carrying in my walks about the city (in obedience to Dr. Wyeth, though I felt like a hypocrite in so doing), I flew down the stairs and across the street where I found the patient--a nervous, impressionable girl, whom I had no difficulty in quieting and relieving, at the same time alleviating her mother’s anxiety as well. As I went through the hotel corridors I walked on air; my heart was beating tumultuously. I wanted to shout for joy. A band was playing in the street, making it harder still to maintain decorum until I could reach my friendly office--that office where I had spent so many lonely hours waiting for the door-bell to ring! that office which had this day witnessed my triple triumph! A few evenings later the bell rang. In the waiting room stood a tall, lanky old chap.