The Disagreeable Woman: A Social MysteryAlger, Horatio, Jr.
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The Disagreeable Woman: A Social Mystery
Alger, Horatio, Jr.
Boardinghouses -- Fiction; Love stories; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
Supposing that he had come to consult me on the subject of his health, I
began to wonder from what disease he was suffering. Remembering his
achievements at the table I fancied it might be dyspepsia.
The Professor entered the room, and sank into an armchair, which he
quite filled from side to side.
"I suppose you are surprised to see me, Herr Doctor," began the
Professor.
"Oh, no. I am never surprised to see anybody. I had not supposed you
were sick."
"Sick! Oh, no, I'm all right. I eat well and I sleep well. What should
be the matter with me?"
"I am glad to hear such good reports of you."
Was I quite sincere? I am afraid it was a disappointment to learn that
my supposed patient was in no need of advice.
"_Ja_, I am well. I was never better, thank God!"
"Then I am to consider this a social call," I said with affected
cheerfulness. "You are very kind to call upon me, Prof. Poppendorf. I
appreciate it as a friendly attention."
"No, it is not quite dat."
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
"I come on a little peezness."
I was puzzled. I could not understand what business there could be
between the Professor and myself.
"I shall be glad to hear what it is."
"You see, I thought I would ask you if you were courting Mees Ruth
Canby, if you mean to make her your wife?"
I dropped into the nearest chair--I had been standing--in sheer
amazement. To be asked my intentions in regard to the young woman from
Macy's was most astonishing, and by Prof. Poppendorf, too!
"Did Miss Canby send you here to speak to me?" I asked, considerably
annoyed.
"Oh, no! she knows nothing about it."
"I can't understand what you have to do in the matter, Prof.
Poppendorf. You are neither her father nor her brother."
"Oh, _ja_, you are quite right."
"Then why do you come to me with such a question?"
"I thought I would like to know myself."
"I deny your right to speak to me on the subject," I said, stiffly. "If
now you had a good reason."
"But I have a reason," protested the Professor, earnestly.
"What is it?"
"I lofe her myself. I wish to make her my frau."
This was most astonishing.
"You love her yourself?"
"_Ja_, Herr Doctor."
"And you want to marry her?"
"_Ja._"
"But you are an old man."
"Not so old," said he, jealously; "I am only a little over sixty."
"And I think she cannot be over twenty-one."
"But I am a good man. I am strong. I am well. Look here!" and he struck
his massive chest a sturdy blow, as if to show how sound he was.
"Yes, you seem to be well."
"You have not told me, Herr Doctor, if you lofe Mees Ruth," he said,
uneasily.
"No, I don't love her."
"But you called to see her--at Macy's."
"I called to buy some socks and handkerchiefs."
"Was that all?" he asked, with an air of relief.
"It was all."
"Then you do not wish to marry Mees Ruth?"
"I do not wish to marry any one. I am not rich enough. Are you?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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