CHAPTER XXI. — “HAD HIS EXPERIMENT BEEN TOO SEVERE?”
Dr. Everett was driving rapidly through the city; at least, as rapidly as the crowded character of the street would permit. He was out on professional duty, and had just been congratulating himself that his regular calls were now made for the day, and unless something special intervened he should have a couple of hours free for the alleys.
That meant professional duty, too, and of the very hardest character, one would suppose, as it brought him in contact not only with sickness in some of its most repulsive forms, but with abject poverty as well, and too often with loathsome forms of sin; yet he went about this work with a zest that his regular practice did not furnish. This was something done solely for Jesus' sake, and with an eye that was manifestly single to His glory.
He had already selected his alley, and was planning how, when his horses were safely stabled, he could make a cross-cut to it, when his eyes were held by two persons who were ascending together the stairway that led to one of the public halls. His face darkened as he watched them. Apparently they were engrossed with each other, and took no notice of him; but there were reasons why he specially desired to keep them in view. A network of carriages and wagons such as is common to crowded thoroughfares blocked his path just then, and prolonged his opportunity to watch the two.
They made their way in a very leisurely manner up the long staircase, letting others, more in haste, pass them continually; yet presently they joined the group who were passing up tickets of entrance.
The doctor signalled a policeman, and entered into conversation:—
“What is going on in Seltzer Hall?”
“Well, sir, there's a kind of a concert, I guess. They play on goblets, they say—just common glass goblets—and make fine music.”
“An afternoon entertainment?”
“Yes, sir, as a kind of introduction, you know; they expect to get a crowd for evening by the means.”