“’Most any time,” said Jerry. “You can pay the first day for a whole set of visits, or you can pay when he sends a bill, or ’most anyway.”
“How can I tell how often he’s comin’?”
“He ain’t let pass that he’s comin’ more than this once, but you’ll have to go high for this once. Think of the fares here and back; the car money alone is twenty-five dollars, and not countin’ chair-cars or meals.”
“Well, I’ll give him a hundred, and see how he likes that.”
“All right,” said Jerry; “you give it to him now. He’d be more likely to come later, if he knew we pay before he can put hat on to go home.”
She had planned it all; the money should be put in his hand just as he was leaving. She thought of no receipt, just as she thought of none for the money she put in the plate on those delightful courtship Sundays. Indeed, she felt the transactions to be similar.
She wanted to show, just as she had shown then, that though Jarlsen was her man, he was no pauper. The bill was to be paid in the sight of the surrounding multitude at the windows.
Presently Dr. Brent came out. He looked at the faces set in the window frames, and made no comment. Emma realized, with hope full grown to thankfulness, that had he felt there was nothing encouraging to say, he would have dispersed the waiting men and women before he spoke.
“Miss Butte,” he said, “I’ve seen worse than he recover. His sight is gone, sealed up with scorch; but he’ll hear again some day. Get him up as soon as the smart goes.”
Some one in the window said, “He’ll make wages dead easy if he hears again.”