It was a happier morning than I had known for long; the feeling that I had something to give to the doctor made the hours pass quickly, and when he arrived at three, in his very best mood, he was obviously pleased on hearing that I could easily spare $10. The relief was written on his beaming face. He thanked me warmly. “I do really need it,” he said with emphasis, “or I couldn’t take it from you.” We passed a delightful hour or two; I was strong enough to play the fiddle to him; we talked ... the happiest afternoon I had yet known in that room came to an end; he prepared to go. Pointing to the drawer, I asked him to take the money out. He did so. At least he opened the drawer. He opened all four drawers. The money was not there. The most painful part of it, I think, was the look on his face as he presently went out. He did not believe me. I had found it impossible to mention Boyde. I had been speechless. I had no explanation to give. By the expression on the old German’s face as he left the room I could see he thought I was lying to him. His disappointment in me was greater than his disappointment over the money. It was a bitter moment--even more bitter than the further treachery of my companion.... I was alone with my thoughts and feelings. I was alone for four days--and four nights. Boyde, that is, did not return till four days had passed, while the doctor stayed away three days. Whether either of them had said anything to Mrs. Bernstein on their way out, Boyde promising payment perhaps, the doctor letting fall something derogatory, I did not know. Mrs. Bernstein, anyhow, was very unpleasant during those four awful days. Boyde had not even given her the $10. She paid me dreadful visits, she threatened to sell my things (what? I wondered), to turn me out; she sent up hardly any food....