CHAPTER XVI. SITS THE WIND IN THAT QUARTER.
Of course I attended the Patti concert. The seat given me was in the best part of the house, and I felt somewhat bashful when I found that all my neighbors wore dress suits. My own suit—the best I had—was beginning to show the marks of wear, but I did not dare go to the expense of another.
My next neighbor was an elderly gentleman, bordering upon sixty. In the twenty minutes that elapsed before the rise of the curtain we fell into a pleasant conversation. It was pleasant to find that he was becoming interested in me.
"You enjoy Patti?" he said. "But then I hardly need ask that. Your presence here is sufficient evidence."
"I have no doubt I shall enjoy Patti," I answered. "I have never heard her."
"Indeed? How does that happen?"
"Because I have been only three months in New York. I came here from the country, and of course I had no chance to hear her there."
"Excuse my curiosity, but you do not look like a business man."
"I am not. I am a practising physician."
"Indeed!" he replied, with interest. "I wish you could cure my rheumatism."