"Indeed it is," I answered.
"You speak as if you know something about it."
"I do. I am a young physician, with very little money, and few patients. Life with me is a struggle, as it is with you."
I was well dressed—that is a necessity with a professional man, who must keep up appearances—and this perhaps made it difficult for Mrs. Mills to believe that I was really poor.
"What do you prescribe, doctor?"
"No medicines are needed. What your daughter needs most is strengthening food—to begin with a little beef tea."
Mrs. Mills looked embarrassed. I understood her embarrassment. What I ordered was simple enough; but where was the money to come from, to supply the sick girl's needs?
"I can make some beef tea," she said, after a pause, "and some bread."
"It is just the thing," I said, cheerfully.