"Now what is it?" he asked gruffly. He was vexed that the matter should occur at this time, when he was on rather cool terms with Lindsay. The case proved to be an interesting one, however. There were nervous complications; it could not be diagnosed at a glance. After spending half an hour in making a careful examination, he gave the woman a preliminary treatment, and dismissed her with directions to call the next day.
"You will lose your eyesight, if you don't take care," he said. "We'll see to-morrow."
"No," the woman shook her head. "I've had enough of her lip. You'se all right; but I guess I'll have to go blind. I can't stand your prices. Here's two dollars, all I got."
She held out a dirty bill.
"In the world?" Sommers added smilingly. It was a familiar formula.
"Just about," she admitted defiantly. "And if my eyes go back on me, I guess 'twill be St. Isidore, or St. Somebody. You see I need my eyes pretty bad just now for one thing."
"What's that?" the doctor asked good-naturedly, waving the money aside.
"To look for him. He's in Chicago somewheres, I know."
"Ducharme?" the doctor inquired carelessly.
The woman nodded, her not uncomely broad face assuming a strange expression of determined fierceness. At that moment an assistant rapped at the door with a summons from Dr. Lindsay.