Dr. Jack Redfield, as he was familiarly called by his friends, although young in years, had nevertheless “won his spurs” in the medical profession. He had a lucrative practice in Chicago, and occupied a chair in one of the leading medical colleges. His head was of a Napoleonic cast. He had deep-set, expressive blue eyes, short brown hair, a rather heavy blond mustache, and a square chin indicative of great strength of character. In physical proportions he seemed an athlete. His neatly fitting attire proved that he kept abreast with the conventionalities.
“How are you feeling this evening?” he asked, addressing Mrs. J. Bruce-Horton.
“Oh, much better, thank you.”
“I fear it is almost too cool for you here on the veranda, and I suggest the wisdom of your retiring to the parlors.”
“Oh, do you really think so, doctor? It is so very pleasant here, and yet it is very thoughtful of you to mention it. Perhaps,” continued Mrs. Horton, turning to Mrs. Osborn, “we had better go in.”
“I will accompany you,” said Doctor Redfield. “I think it best to change the medicine.”
“Will you come, Ethel?” asked Mrs. Horton, as they arose.
“No, mamma, it is so very pleasant out here, and you know that I am not ill.”
As the invalid and her companion moved away, Doctor Redfield turned to Ethel and said, “I trust you are enjoying your temporary sojourn at Lake Geneva.”
“Oh, very much, indeed,” replied Ethel, with a smile, “I think the rowing is simply grand, and the shady walks and drives are superb.”