Part 17 (2/2)
I thought you and Agnes exchanged glances. ”Please, Doc--” she began; but you interrupted her by saying proudly, ”We must not take any more of Dr. Hartzmann's time, Agnes. Will you come in?”
”No,” replied Agnes. ”I'll go home before it's any darker. Good-night.”
I started to walk with her the short distance, but the moment we were out of hearing she turned towards me and cried, ”I hate you!” As I made no reply, she demanded impatiently, ”What makes you behave so abominably?” When I was still silent she continued: ”I told you how Maizie felt, and I thought it was all right, and now you do it again.
It's too bad! Well, can't you say something? Why do you do it?”
”There is nothing for me to say, Miss Blodgett,” I responded sadly.
”You might at least do it to please me,” she persisted, ”even if you don't like Maizie.”
I made no answer, and we walked the rest of the distance in silence. At the stoop, however, Agnes asked, ”Will you go with me to call on Maizie, some afternoon?”
I shook my head.
”Not even to please mamma and me?” she questioned.
Again I gave the same answer, and without a word of parting she left me and pa.s.sed through the doorway. From that time she has treated me coldly.
Another complication only tended to increase the coldness, as well as to involve me with Mrs. Blodgett. In December, Mr. Blodgett came into Mr.
Whitely's office and announced, ”I've been taking a liberty with your name, doctor.”
”For what kindness am I indebted now?” I inquired.
”I'm a member of the Philomathean,” he said,--”not because I'm an author, or artist, or engineer, or scientist, but because I'm a big frog in my own puddle, and they want samples of us, provided we are good fellows, just to see what we're like. I was talking with Professor Eaton in September, and we agreed you ought to be one of us; so we stuck your name up, and Sat.u.r.day evening the club elected you.”
”I can't afford it”--I began; but he interrupted with:--
”I knew you'd say that, and so didn't tell you beforehand. I'll bet you your initiation fee and a year's dues against a share of R. T. common that you'll make enough out of your members.h.i.+p to pay you five times over.”
”How can I do that?”
”All the editors and publishers are members,” he replied, ”and to meet them over the rum punch we serve on meeting nights is worth money to the most celebrated author living. Then you'll have the best club library in this country at your elbow for working purposes.”
”I don't think I ought, Mr. Blodgett.”
He was about to protest, when Mr. Whitely broke in upon us, saying, ”Accept your members.h.i.+p, Dr. Hartzmann, and the paper shall pay your initiation and dues.”
I do not know whether Mr. Blodgett or myself was the more surprised at this unexpected and liberal offer. Our amazement was so obvious that Mr.
Whitely continued: ”I think it'll be an excellent idea for the paper to have a member of its staff in the Philomathean, and so the office shall pay for it.”
”Whitely,” observed Mr. Blodgett admiringly, ”you're a good business man, whatever else you are!”
”I wish, Blodgett,” inquired Mr. Whitely, ”you would tell me why I have been kept waiting so long?”
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