The Disagreeable Woman. Alger Horatio Jr.
Mrs. Wyman, with an ostentatious sigh. "I was quite a girl when my dear husband died."
According to her own chronology, she was twenty-three. In all probability she became a widow at twenty-nine or thirty. But of course I could not insinuate any doubt of a lady's word.
"And you have never been tempted to marry again?" I essayed with great lack of prudence.
"Oh, Dr. Fenwick, do you think it would be right?" said the widow, leaning more heavily on my arm.
"If you should meet one who was congenial to you. I don't know why not."
"I have always thought that if I ever married again I would select a professional gentleman," murmured the widow.
I began to understand my danger and tried a diversion.
"I don't know if you would consider Prof. Poppendorf a 'professional gentleman'," I said.
"Oh, how horrid! Who would marry such an old fossil?"
"It is well that the Professor does not hear you."
Perhaps this conversation is hardly worth recording, but it throws some light on the character of the widow. Moreover it satisfied me that should I desire to marry her there would be no violent opposition on her part. But, truth to tell, I would have preferred the young woman from Macy's, despite the criticism of Mrs. Wyman. One was artificial, the other was natural.
We reached Schiller Hall, after a long walk. It was a small hall, looking something like a college recitation room.
Prof. Poppendorf took his place behind a desk on the platform and looked about him. There were scarcely a hundred persons, all told, in the audience. The men, as a general thing, were shabbily dressed, and elderly. There were perhaps twenty women, with whom dress was a secondary consideration.
"Did you ever see such frights, Doctor?" whispered the widow.
"You are the only stylishly dressed woman in the hall."
Mrs. Wyman looked gratified.
The Professor commenced a long and rather incomprehensible talk, in which the words material and immaterial occurred at frequent intervals. There may have been some in the audience who understood him, but I was not one of them.
"Do you understand him?" I asked the widow.
"Not wholly," she answered, guardedly.
I was forced to smile, for she looked quite bewildered.
The Professor closed thus: "Thus you will see, my friends, that much that we call material is immaterial, while per contra, that which is usually called immaterial is material."
"A very satisfactory conclusion," I remarked, turning to the widow.
"Quite so," she answered, vaguely.
"I thank you for your attention, my friends," said the Professor, with a bow.
There was faint applause, in which I assisted.
The Professor looked gratified, and we all rose and quietly left the hall. I walked out behind Miss Canby and the Disagreeable Woman.
"How did you like the lecture, Miss Blagden?" I inquired.
"Probably as much as you did," she answered, dryly.
"What do you think of the Professor, now?"
"He seems to know a good deal that isn't worth knowing."
CHAPTER V.
A CONVERSATION WITH THE DISAGREEABLE WOMAN
One afternoon between five and six o'clock I was passing the Star Theatre, when I overtook the Disagreeable Woman.
I had only exchanged a few remarks with her at the table, and scarcely felt acquainted. I greeted her, however, and waited with some curiosity to see what she would have to say to me.
"Dr. Fenwick, I believe?" she said.
"Yes; are you on your way to supper?"
"I am. Have you had a busy day?"
As she said this she looked at me sharply.
"I have had two patients, Miss Blagden. I am a young physician, and not well known yet. I advance slowly."
"You have practised in the country?"
"Yes."
"Pardon me, but would it not have been better to remain there, where you were known, than to come to a large city where you are as one of the sands of the sea?"
"I sometimes ask myself that question, but as yet I am unprepared with an answer. I am ambitious, and the city offers a much larger field."
"With a plenty of laborers already here."
"Yes."
"I suppose you have confidence in yourself?"
Again she eyed me sharply.
"Yes and no. I have a fair professional training, and this gives me some confidence. But sometimes, it would be greater if I had an extensive practise, I feel baffled, and shrink from the responsibility that a physician always assumes."
"I am glad to hear you say so," she remarked, approvingly. "Modesty is becoming in any profession. Do you feel encouraged by your success thus far?"
"I am gaining, but my progress seems slow. I have not yet reached the point when I am self-supporting."
She looked at me thoughtfully.
"Of course you would not have established yourself here if you had not a reserve fund to fall back upon? But perhaps I am showing too much curiosity."
"No, I do not regard it as curiosity, only as a kind interest in my welfare."
"You judge me right."
"I brought with me a few hundred dollars, Miss Blagden—what was left to me from the legacy of a good aunt—but I have already used a quarter of it, and every month it grows less."
"I feel an interest in young men—I am free to say this without any fear of being misunderstood, being an old woman—"
"An old woman?"
"Well, I am more than twenty-nine."
We both smiled, for this was the age that Mrs. Wyman owned up to.
"At any rate," she resumed, "I am considerably older than you. I will admit, Dr. Fenwick, that I am not a blind believer in the medical profession. There are some, even of those who have achieved a certain measure of success, whom I look upon as solemn pretenders."
"Yet if you were quite ill you would call in a physician?"
"Yes. I am not quite foolish enough to undertake to doctor myself in a serious illness. But I would repose unquestioning faith in no one, however eminent."
"I don't think we shall disagree on that point. A physician understands his own limitations better than any outsider."
"Come, I think you will do," she said, pleasantly. "If I am ill at any time I shall probably call you in."
"Thank you."
"And I should criticise your treatment. If you gave me any bread pills, I should probably detect the imposture."
"I should prefer, as a patient, bread pills to many that are prescribed."
"You seem to be a sensible man, Dr. Fenwick. I shall hope to have other opportunities of conversing with you. Let me know from time to time how you are succeeding."
"Thank you. I am glad you are sufficiently interested in me to make the request."
By this time we had reached the boarding-house. We could see Mrs. Wyman at the window of the reception room. She was evidently surprised and amused to see us together. I was sure that I should hear more of it, and I was not mistaken.
"Oh, Dr. Fenwick," she said playfully, as she took a seat beside me at the table. "I caught you that time."
"I don't understand you," I said, innocently.
"Oh, yes, you do. Didn't I see you and Miss Blagden coming in together?"
"Yes."
"I