The “ruffianly young man” mentioned by the ticket agent was probably the husband of the poor gypsy girl; but who was the other passenger? Was she his wife, traveling with him, as they had set out from the hut to do, or was it Lilith, who was a mere accidental fellow-passenger?
No one could tell.
And so the time passed in fruitless search and heart-sickening suspense, until late in May, when one morning, as Dr. Kerr was seated in his office, the door opened and a stranger entered.
The doctor, believing the visitor to be a patient, arose and offered him a chair.
“Thank you, sir. I dare say you are surprised to see me, sir,” said the man, as he seated himself, took off his hat and wiped his face.
“Not at all. Strangers sometimes honor me with a call,” blandly replied the doctor.
“Yes, I know, for medical advice, with a fee in their hands, and then they have a right to come, and you are glad to see them. But I don’t want any medical advice whatever, and I haven’t brought any fee; and that’s the reason why I am afraid you will think I am intruding.”
“Not at all, if I can serve you in any way,” politely replied the doctor.
“Yes, but you can’t even do that! I don’t stand in need of services.”
“Then will you kindly enlighten me as to the circumstance to which I am indebted for this honor?” inquired the doctor, with a smile of amusement.