_March 11._ When I left My Fancy, after my visit, Agnes had nothing but praise for me. “I was certain that you and Maizie would be friends if you ever really knew each other,” she said triumphantly. Unfortunately, our first meeting in the city served only to prove the reverse. In one of my daily walks up-town, I met you and Agnes outside a shop where you had been buying Christmas gifts for the boys of your Neighborhood Guild. You were looking for the carriage, about which there had been some mistake, and I helped you search. When our hunt was unsuccessful, you both said you would rather walk than let me get a cab, having been deterred only by the growing darkness, and not by the snow. So chatting merrily, away we went, through the elfin flakes which seemed so eager to kiss your cheeks, till your home was reached. “If we come in, will you give us some tea?” asked Agnes. “Tea, cake, chocolates, and conversation,” you promised. “I am sorry,” I said, “but I cannot spare the time.” I thought you and Agnes exchanged glances. “Please, Doc—” she began; but you interrupted her by saying proudly, “We must not take any more of Dr. Hartzmann’s time, Agnes. Will you come in?” “No,” replied Agnes. “I’ll go home before it’s any darker. Good-night.” I started to walk with her the short distance, but the moment we were out of hearing she turned towards me and cried, “I hate you!” As I made no reply, she demanded impatiently, “What makes you behave so abominably?” When I was still silent she continued: “I told you how Maizie felt, and I thought it was all right, and now you do it again. It’s too bad! Well, can’t you say something? Why do you do it?” “There is nothing for me to say, Miss Blodgett,” I responded sadly. “You might at least do it to please me,” she persisted, “even if you don’t like Maizie.” I made no answer, and we walked the rest of the distance in silence. At the stoop, however, Agnes asked, “Will you go with me to call on Maizie, some afternoon?” I shook my head. “Not even to please mamma and me?” she questioned. Again I gave the same answer, and without a word of parting she left me and passed through the doorway. From that time she has treated me coldly. Another complication only tended to increase the coldness, as well as to involve me with Mrs. Blodgett. In December, Mr. Blodgett came into Mr. Whitely’s office and announced, “I’ve been taking a liberty with your name, doctor.” “For what kindness am I indebted now?” I inquired. “I’m a member of the Philomathean,” he said,—“not because I’m an author, or artist, or engineer, or scientist, but because I’m a big frog in my own puddle, and they want samples of us, provided we are good fellows, just to see what we’re like. I was talking with Professor Eaton in September, and we agreed you ought to be one of us; so we stuck your name up, and Saturday evening the club elected you.” “I can’t afford it”—I began; but he interrupted with:—