For a moment Miss Durant vacillated, then, with a very slight inclination of her head, conveying the smallest quant.i.ty of consent and acknowledgment she could express, she walked out of the porte-cochere.

The doctor put himself beside her, and; they turned down the street, but not one word did she say. "If he will force his society upon me, I will at least show him my dislike of it," was her thought.

Obviously Dr. Armstrong was not disturbed by Miss Durant's programme, for the whole distance was walked in silence; and even when they halted on the corner, he said nothing, though the girl was conscious that his eyes still studied her face.

"I will not be the first to speak," she vowed to herself; but minute after minute pa.s.sed without the slightest attempt or apparent wish on his part, and finally she asked, "Are you sure this line is running?"

Her attendant pointed up the street. "That yellow light is your car. I don't know why the intervals are so long this evening. Usually--"

He was interrupted by the girl suddenly clutching at her dress, and then giving an exclamation of real consternation.

"What is it?" he questioned.

"Why, I--nothing--that is, I think--I prefer to walk home, after all," she stammered.

"You mustn't do that. It's over two miles, and through a really rough district."

"I choose to, none the less," answered Constance, starting across the street.

"Then you will have to submit to my safeguard for some time longer, Miss Durant," a.s.serted the doctor, as he overtook her.

Constance stopped. "Dr. Armstrong," she said, "I trust you will not insist on accompanying me farther, when I tell you I haven't the slightest fear of anything."

"You have no fear, Miss Durant," he answered, "because you are too young and inexperienced to even know the possibilities. This is no part of the city for you to walk alone in after dark. Your wisest course is to take a car, but if you prefer not, you had best let me go with you."

"I choose not to take a car," replied the girl, warmly, "and you have no right to accompany me against my wish."

Dr. Armstrong raised his hat. "I beg your pardon. I did not realize that my presence was not desired," he said.

Angry at both herself and him, Constance merely bowed, and walked on. "I don't see why men have to torment me so," she thought, as she hurried along. "His face was really interesting, and if he only wouldn't begin like--He never would have behaved so if--if I weren't--" Miss Durant checked even her thoughts from the word "beautiful," and allowed the words "well dressed" to explain her magnetism to the other s.e.x. Then, as if to salve her conscience of her own hypocrisy, she added, "It really is an advantage to a girl, if she doesn't want to be bothered by men, to be born plain."

The truth of her thought was brought home to her with unexpected suddenness, for as she pa.s.sed a strip of sidewalk made light by the glare from a saloon brilliant with gas, a man just coming out of its door stared boldly, and then joined her.

"Ahem!" he said.

The girl quickened her pace, but the intruder only lengthened his.

"Cold night, isn't it, darling?" he remarked, and tried to take her arm.

Constance shrank away from the familiarity with a loathing and fear which, as her persecutor followed, drove her to the curb.

"How dare you?" she burst out, finding he was not to be avoided.

"Now don't be silly, and--"

There the sentence ended, for the man was jerked backwards by the collar, and then shot forward, with a shove, full length into the gutter.

"I feared you would need a.s.sistance, Miss Durant, and so took the liberty of following you at a distance," explained Dr. Armstrong, as the cur picked himself up and slunk away.

"You are very--Thank you deeply for your kindness, Dr. Armstrong," gasped the girl, her voice trembling. "I ought to have been guided by your advice and taken the car, but the truth is, I suddenly remembered--that is, I happened to be without any money, and was ashamed to ask you for a loan.

Now, if you'll lend me five cents, I shall be most grateful."

"It is said to be a feminine trait never to think of contingencies,"

remarked the doctor, "and I think, Miss Durant, that your suggested five cents has a tendency in that direction. I will walk with you to Lexington Avenue, which is now your nearest line, and if you still persist then in refusing my escort, I shall insist that you become my debtor for at least a dollar."

"I really need not take you any further than the car, thank you, Dr.

Armstrong, for I can get a cab at Twenty-third Street."

It was a short walk to the car line,--too short, indeed, for Miss Durant to express her sense of obligation as she wished,--and she tried, even as she was mounting the steps, to say a last word, but the car swept her away with the sentence half spoken; and with a want of dignity that was not customary in her, she staggered to a seat. Then as she tendered a dollar bill to the conductor, she remarked to herself,--

"Now, that's a man I'd like for a friend, if only he wouldn't be foolish."

At eleven on the following morning, Miss Durant's carriage once more stopped at the hospital door; and, bearing a burden of flowers, and followed by the footman carrying a large basket, Constance entered the ward, and made her way to the waif's bedside.

"Good-morning," she said to Dr. Armstrong, who stood beside the next patient. "How is our invalid doing?"

"Good-morning," responded the doctor, taking the hand she held out. "I think--"

"We's takin' life dead easy, dat's wot wese is," came the prompt interruption from the pillow, in a voice at once youthful yet worn. "Say, dis oin't no lead pipe cinch, oh, no!"

It was a very different face the girl found, for soap and water had worked wonders with it, and the scissors and brush had reduced the tangled s.h.a.g of hair to order. Yet the ferret eyes and the alert, over-sharp expression were unchanged.

"I've brought you some flowers and goodies," said Miss Durant. "I don't know how much of it will be good for him," she went on to the doctor, apologetically, "but I hope some will do." Putting the flowers on the bed, from the basket she produced in succession two bottles of port, a mould of wine jelly, a jar of orange marmalade, a box of wafers, and a dish of grapes, apples, and bananas.

"Gee! Won't Ise have a h.e.l.l of a gorge!" joyfully burst out the invalid.

"We'll see about that," remarked Dr. Armstrong, smiling. "He can have all the other things you've brought, in reason, Miss Durant, except the wine.

That must wait till we see how much fever he develops to-day,"

"He is doing well?"

"So far, yes."

"That is a great relief to me. And, Dr. Armstrong, in returning your loan to me, will you let me say once again how grateful I am to you for all your kindness, for which I thanked you so inadequately last night? I deserved all that came to me, and can only wonder how you ever resisted saying, 'I told you so.'"

"I have been too often wrong in my own diagnosing to find any satisfaction or triumph in the mistakes of others," said the doctor, as he took the bill the girl held out to him, and, let it be confessed, the fingers that held it, "nor can I regret anything which gave me an opportunity to serve you."

The speaker put an emphasis on the last word, and eyed Miss Durant in a way that led her to hastily withdraw her fingers, and turn away from his unconcealed admiration. It was to find the keen eyes of the urchin observing them with the closest attention; and as she realised it, she coloured, half in embarra.s.sment and half in irritation.

"How is your leg?" she asked, in an attempt to divert the boy's attention and to conceal her own feeling.

"Say. Did youse know dey done it up in plaster, so dat it's stiff as a bat?" responded the youngster, eagerly. "Wish de udder kids could see it, for dey'll never believe it w'en Ise tells 'em. I'll show it to youse if youse want?" he offered, in his joy over the novelty.

"I saw it put on," said Constance. "Don't you remember?"

"Why, cert! Ise remembers now dat--" A sudden change came over the boy's face. "Wheer's dem cloes youse promised me?" he demanded.

"Oh, I entirely forgot--"