“Yes.”
“O, then please to walk in, sir.”
In the ill-furnished, narrow room sat an old man, in a very shabby and variegated déshabille, who rose from his chair, and, with a grace worthy of a count, welcomed the stranger. His manner was extremely gentlemanly, his language well chosen, and the statement of his complaint particularly clear and concise.
The surgeon, who like most of us see strange things, was puzzled to make out his new patient, but concluded that he was one of the many who, having been born to better things, had become reduced by misfortune to these apparently very narrow circumstances.
Accordingly, having prescribed, the surgeon was about taking his leave, when the gentleman said,—
“Sir, I thank you very much for your attention,” at the same time offering his hand with a fee.
The benevolent surgeon declined the fee, simply saying,—
“No, I thank you, sir. I hope you will soon be better. Good morning.”
“Stay, sir!” exclaimed the old gentleman. “I shall insist on this, if you please,” in a tone which at once convinced the surgeon that it would be more painful to refuse than accept the fee; he accordingly took it.
“I am very much obliged to you, sir,” the old gentleman then said; “for had you not taken your fee I could not have again had the advantage of your advice. I sent for you because I had understood that you were a pupil of Dr. Abernethy’s, for whom I could not again send, because he would not take his fee, and I was so hurt that I am afraid I was rude to the good man. I suppose he, judging from the appearances of things here, thought I could not afford it, hence refused the fee, on which I begged him not to be deceived by appearances, but take the fee. However, he kept retreating and declining, till, forgetting myself a little, and feeling vexed, I said, ‘By G——, sir, I insist on your taking it,’ when he replied as fiercely, ‘By G——, sir, I will not,’ and hastily left the room, closing the door after him.”