As for myself I am on the high road to a comfortable income. I was fortunate enough to give my rich patient so much relief that I have received the large check he promised me, and have been recommended by him to several of his friends. I have thought seriously of removing to a more fashionable neighborhood, but have refrained--will it be believed?--from my reluctance to leave the Disagreeable Woman. I am beginning to understand her better. Under a brusque exterior she certainly possesses a kind heart, and consideration for others. Upon everything in the shape of humbug or pretension she is severe, but she can appreciate worth and true nobility. In more than one instance I have applied to her in behalf of a poor patient, and never in vain. Yet I am as much in the dark as ever as to her circumstances and residence. Upon these subjects I have ceased, not perhaps to feel, but to show any curiosity. The time was coming, however, when I should learn more of her. One day a young girl came to my office. Her mother kept a modest lodging house on West Eleventh street, and she had been my patient. "Any one sick at home, Sarah?" I asked. "No, doctor, but we have a lodger who is very low with a fever. I think he is very poor. I am afraid he cannot pay a doctor, but mother thought you would be willing to call." "To be sure," I said, cheerfully, "I will be at your house in an hour." An hour found me ringing at the door of Mrs. Graham's plain lodging house. "I thought you would come, Dr. Fenwick," said the good woman, who personally answered the bell. "You come in good time, for poor Mr. Douglas is very sick." "I will follow you to his room." He occupied a small room on the third floor. It was furnished in plain fashion. The patient, a man who was apparently nearing fifty, was tossing restlessly on his bed. Poorly situated as he was, I could see that in health he must have been a man of distinguished bearing. Poverty and he seemed ill-mated. "Mr. Douglas," said the landlady, "this is Dr. Fenwick. I took the liberty of calling him, as you are so ill." The sick man turned upon me a glance from a pair of full, black eyes. "Dr. Fenwick," he said, sadly, "I thank you for coming, but I am almost a pauper, and I fear I cannot pay you for your services." "That matters little," I replied. "You need me, that is enough. Let me feel your pulse." I found that he was in a high fever. His symptoms were serious. He looked like a man with a constitution originally strong, but it had been severely tried. "Well?" he asked. "You are seriously ill. I am not prepared just now with my diagnosis, but I can tell better in a day or two." "Shall I be long ill?" he asked. "It will take time to recover." "Shall I recover?" he asked, pointedly. "We will hope for the best." "I understand. Don't think I am alarmed. Life has few charms for me. My chief trouble is that I shall be a burden to you and Mrs. Graham."