remotely
approaching familiarity with Miss Willis.

Her smart brougham waits in front of a new and resplendent down-town
office building on a certain afternoon, while Miss Willis ascends
in one of the elevators to the tenth floor. She proceeds with
assurance, but leisurely--mayhap she is a trifle bored--to a door
which somehow manages to convey an impression of prosperity beyond.
It bears upon its frosted glass the name of Dr. Leonard, a renowned
specialist in diseases of the throat, besides the names of a
half-dozen assistants--in much smaller lettering--who, doubtless,
are in the ferment of struggling for positions of equal renown.

The door opening discloses a neat, uniformed maid and a large and
richly furnished reception-room. Five ladies, of various ages and all
handsomely gowned, are seated here and there, manifestly forcing
patience to relieve the _ennui_ which would have been tolerated with
no other detail of the day's routine.

This cursory survey is sufficient, it is hoped, to demonstrate that
Dr. Leonard's practice is confined among a class of which most other
practitioners might be pardonably envious.

The white-aproned, white-capped maid smiled a polite recognition of
the newest arrival. A bit flustered by the calmly impersonal scrutiny
with which her greeting was received, she addressed Miss Willis in a
subdued voice.

"I was to tell you, Miss Willis, that there is no occasion for Dr.
Leonard to see you himself to-day. If you please, Dr. Carter will fill
your engagement."

Miss Willis did not please. It was quite clear that she regarded this
arrangement with considerable disfavor.

"You may inform Dr. Leonard that I shall not wait," she said coldly.
"If I am so far improved that I do not require his personal attention,
I shall not come again."

With that, she turned decisively to leave. The maid followed her,
hesitantly, to the door, and Miss Willis could not repress a smile at
the girl's consternation. The situation had ended in an altogether
unexpected manner. And then, in the next instant, it became manifest
that, however absolute Dr. Leonard might be, it was not a part of the
maid's duties to discourage those who would seek his services. She was
emboldened to protest.

"Just try him, please, Miss Willis," in a nervous murmur;
"he--truly--he's--"

The assurance was left unfinished; but the speaker's flurry revealed
her predicament, and Miss Willis smiled encouragement.

"Very well," she