Dr. Peters took a seat with considerable deliberation, while Hiram waited, with a displeased look, for him to reply.
'You are the owner of the block of 'model houses,' as they are called?'
Hiram nodded.
'A patient of mine, a laboring man, is one of your tenants. He broke his leg a few months ago, falling from a scaffolding. He has had hard work to live since. Thursday his wife was taken ill. Yesterday was rent day—he pays monthly in advance. He could not get the money, and your agent refuses to give him any grace. Now what I want to say is, the poor woman can't be moved without danger to her life.'
'Well?'
'Well,' echoed the other, 'I want to get an order from you to let her remain.'
'See the agent.'
'I have seen him; and, what is more, although I am poor enough myself—for I am just starting, you see, in New York—I offered to pawn my watch and pay the rent myself, but the man would not take it.'
'No?'
'No, he would not. He said they had gone over the time, and he did not want tenants who depended on charity to pay rent; besides he said he was afraid the woman was going to die, and he did not want a death in the building—it would give it a bad name.'