e time' 'e's not. 'Tis accawding to the
povvub,--what is that povvub, now, ag'in?" The proverb did not answer
his call, and he waved it away. "Yesseh, eve'ybody wanting me at
once--couldn' supply the deman'."

Richling listened to him with new pleasure and rising esteem.

"You make me envy you," he exclaimed, honestly.

"Well, I s'pose you may say so, Mistoo Itchlin, faw I nevva nuss
a sing-le one w'at din paid me ten dollahs a night. Of co'se!
'Consistency, thou awt a jew'l.' It's juz as the povvub says, 'All
work an' no pay keep Jack a small boy.' An' yet," he hurriedly added,
remembering his indebtedness to his auditor, "'tis aztonizhin' 'ow 'tis
expensive to live. I haven' got a picayune of that money pwesently! I'm
aztonizh' myseff!"

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

"I MUST BE CRUEL ONLY TO BE KIND."

The plague grew sated and feeble. One morning frost sent a flight of icy
arrows into the town, and it vanished. The swarthy girls and lads that
sauntered homeward behind their mothers' cows across the wide suburban
stretches of marshy commons heard again the deep, unbroken, cataract
roar of the reawakened city.

We call the sea cruel, seeing its waters dimple and smile where
yesterday they dashed in pieces the ship that was black with men, women,
and children. But what shall we say of those billows of human life, of
which we are ourselves a part, that surge over the graves of its own
dead with dances and laughter and many a coquetry, with panting chase
for gain and preference, and pious regrets and tender condolences for
the thousands that died yesterday--and need not have died?

Such were the questions Dr. Sevier asked himself as he laid down the
newspaper full of congratulations upon the return of trade's and
fashion's boisterous flow, and praises of the deeds of benevolence and
mercy that had abounded throughout the days of anguish.

Certain currents in these human rapids had driven Richling and the
Doctor wide apart. But at last, one day, Richling entered the office
with a cheerfulness of countenance something overdone, and indicative to
the Doctor's eye of inward trepidation.

"Doctor," he said hurriedly, "preparing to leave the office? It was the
only moment I could command"--

"Good-morning, Richling."

"I've been trying every day for a week to get down here," said Richling,
drawing out a paper. "Doctor"--with his eyes on the paper, which he had
begun to unfold.

"Richling"-- It was the Doctor's hard