Produced by Daniel Fromont
[Transcriber's note: Mrs. Hungerford (1855?-1897), A Bachelor's Dream,
Prudential Book Co., no date of publication]
"Now what can be done?" said the Doctor. "That's the question. What onearth can I do about it?"
He put this question emphatically, with an energetic blow of his glovedhand upon his knee, and seemed very desirous of receiving an answer,although he was jogging along alone in his comfortable brougham. Butthe Doctor was perplexed, and wanted some one to help him out of hisdifficulty. He was a bachelor, and knew therefore that it was of no useletting Patrick drive him home in search of a confidant, for at homethe ruling genius of his household was his housekeeper, Mrs. Jessop.She was a most excellent creature, an invaluable manager of the house,the tradespeople, and the maid-servants, and a splendid cook; theDoctor appreciated her highly, but he was not disposed to ask heradvice or to invite her consolation.
He beat his knee a little harder, frowned more severely; finally letdown the window, put out his head, and called smartly:
"Patrick!"
"Sir." Patrick pulled up the slim, clean-limbed brown horse as quicklyas he could in the midst of the hurrying vehicles and hucksters' stallswhich are usually to be found in the Essex Road at about seven o'clockon Saturday evening, and looked questioningly down at his master.
"Don't go home. Drive me to Petersham Villa," said Dr. Brudenell.
Patrick obeyed rather sulkily. He did not know what his master couldpossibly want at Petersham Villa—where he had already been once thatday—and he did know that he himself was exceedingly hungry, anddesirous of getting home. He gave the brown horse an undeserved cutover the ears with his whip; and when he pulled up he did so with ajerk which he might easily have avoided.
"I sha'n't be many minutes," said the Doctor, alighting in front of acomfortable-looking well-kept house, with red gleams of firelightshining from its parlor windows. "Walk the horse up and down to keepthe cold off, but don't go far."
"It's cowld enough we'll both be, I'm thinkin'," muttered Patrick,gathering up the reins with a shiver; for it was really a very coldevening indeed, damp and gray, with a biting east wind.
If the Doctor heard this complaint, he did not heed it, his policybeing, when his henchman was attacked with a fit of grumbling, to lethim recover his good-temper at his leisure. He had hurried up thesnow-white flight of steps, given a vigorous knock at the door, and,being admitted by a neat maid-servant, was asking if Mrs. Leslie wereat home. Hearing that she was, he crossed the hall with an air of beingperfectly at home, and, after tapping at the door, entered the parlor,causing a lady who was making tea to utter an exclamation of surprise,and a young lady who was making toast before the glowing fire to drop adeliciously-browned slice of bread into the cinders.
"Why, Doctor"—the tea-maker extended a plump hand good-naturedly—"youagain? You are just in time for a cup of tea. I believe you came onpurpose."
"Hardly that; but I shall be glad of one, if I may have it, Mrs.Leslie,"