"Oh, there was not the slightest occasion to come to see you. But I said I would, and here I am. I suppose you'll send me a bill as long as my arm. Do you have a system of charges, Willy? So much for a look over your glasses? So much for that solemn cough? I suppose you grade all your tricks. Now work off the most expensive ones on me; I propose to get the worth of my money, young man." "Thought you said you weren't going to pay any bills?" William reminded her; and then refused to be side-tracked any longer, but asked question after question, bringing her up once or twice with a sharp turn. "Don't joke now, please, Miss Harriet. Be as exact as you can. Is this condition thus, or so--?" And when he got through with his questions, he took up the joking rather heavily. "You're so faithless about pills," he said, "that I'm not going to give you any." "What! no pills?" said Miss Harriet. William King laughed awkwardly. "Not a pill! I don't see any condition which warrants them: but--" "What did I tell you? There's nothing the matter, and you just dragged me here to give your office a busy look." "I didn't suppose you'd see through it," said Willy King. "But, Miss Harriet, I--I don't feel _quite_ satisfied. I--do you know I've a great mind to get a man in Mercer to look you over? I want you to go up with me to-morrow and see him." "Nonsense!" "No, truly," he said; "I am not satisfied, Miss Harriet." "But what do you mean?" she insisted, sharply. "There's nothing the matter with me. You said yourself I didn't need any medicine. Give me some opiate to stop this--this discomfort when it comes on, and I'll be all right." "You can't bear opiates," he said, bluntly; "your heart won't stand them. Don't you remember the time you broke your ankle and I tried morphine--a baby dose--to give you some relief? You gave me a scare, I can tell you." Miss Harriet was silent. Then: "I've known my heart wasn't right for two years. But--" "Oh, your heart doesn't give me any concern--if you don't take liberties with it. Perhaps it isn't quite as good as it was thirty years ago, but--" "Ah, I lost it to you then, Willy. You were a sweet little fellow when you came into my class. Do you remember once when--" "Miss Harriet, you've got to go to Mercer with me to-morrow," William King interrupted, quietly. "I hope there's nothing much out of the way. I hope not. I--I believe not. But I'm not sure. We'll go up and see Greylord and find out. He'll give you some pills, maybe," he ended, and laughed and got up. "Now I'm off to the cat, Miss Harriet." And Miss Harriet, to her astonishment, found herself dismissed before she had made the boy tell her what he was afraid of. "He _is_ a boy," she said to herself. "Of course he wouldn't be apt to know what was the matter. I ought to have gone to see some Mercer man to begin with. I remember when Willy was born." III