And she bowed him out, as if determined to quench any hope he might entertain of being privileged to attend in Victoria Square. Although, of course, medical etiquette forbade his interfering with Dr. Ellis's patients, he felt somewhat disappointed as he went away. He was so weary of waiting in his dingy sitting-room for the patients who never came!
May ventured a word to her aunt when they were alone. "I wish we could help Dr. Inglis to find a few patients, aunt! He seems so nice and kind."
"There are far too many doctors in Beachbourne!" pronounced the spinster. "I shall certainly not leave Dr. Ellis—he gives such delightful dinner-parties!"
Harold plodded dejectedly home, to learn, as usual, that nobody had called during his absence; and, after thriftily changing his coat, he entered his little surgery, to find a packet on the table which had come by post. It was the manuscript of an article on throat affections, which he had sent to a medical paper in the hope of earning a little money. It had entailed great labour and research, only to be rejected with the curt intimation that the editor had no opening for such a subject.
"What can I do?" he distractedly asked himself. "I've called on everybody I can scrape acquaintance with; I've joined the local clubs; I'm a Volunteer and a Freemason—what more can I do to bring myself into notice?"
"A note for you, sir," said the maid-of-all-work, appearing at the door.
He snatched it eagerly, hoping to find a summons; but, alas! it was only a bill from a jobbing-tailor whom he had employed to renovate various garments sub rosa. He had no money to pay it; although it went sorely against the grain to keep the poor man from his due. He paced in distress up and down the narrow room, wishing he dare start out for a long walk, to distract his thoughts. But he dreaded to leave, lest in his absence some desirable patient might send for him. And so, hanging about listlessly, unable to settle to anything, the dismal morning passed, like too many others; and Ann brought in his meal of bread and cheese, from which he rose nearly as hungry as he sat down. He looked at himself in the spotty pier-glass. His cheeks were falling in, and there were hollows beneath his eyes, due entirely to insufficient nourishment.
A card stuck in the frame reminded him that Mrs. Ormsby-Paulet was "at home" that afternoon. "It's a tennis party—shall I go?" he debated. It seemed a mockery to mingle in a scene of gaiety with such a leaden weight at his heart; but a prosaic consideration decided him. "There'll be a good tea, at least, and if I make myself very agreeable, perhaps they'll ask me to stay to dinner. Besides, I may get to know some people who'll employ me."
He dressed himself carefully, and sallied forth; informing the servant of his destination, in case anybody should send for him. Despite his thin cheeks, there was not a better-looking man at "The Dene" that afternoon; for he looked a gentleman to the backbone, and as such, his hostess—who was very short of men—smiled upon him graciously.
"So glad you were able to come," she cooed. "Miss Waller," to the spinster, who had just arrived, "may I introduce my friend, Dr. Inglis?"