THE STORYTELLER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume L, Issue 313, 11 January 1908, Page 4

THE STORYTELLER.

|iG*±; LiiAVES FROM A LADY DISrEK-iER'S DIARY. UKS lAMI.F.MAIXE. ll ...i- celijinU very disheartening. ;u >. aiK- v-ok-nad parsed since the u,i,, in. •• hmrib.i- Apothecaries' Hall ti..iii.ii..i.oii.----U whole weeks since I bad ilaini.tl my ha id earned eertifiiate, and t.iuie torili ready lo dispense medicine* lor the world in general, and T*i no one seemed to want uie to do so! It sei-iiied a tremendous time, and so, wnen one day i eauie across this brief adveiii-eim-ui: • Wanted, u.-»ist.iitt in dispensary; a lew weeks only, Apply . I pmkeled '">' pride and decided to go and oiU-r myself. I say " pride,'' because (he ndilrv* sounded anything but attract -it, being a turning otf the Haiupotead Uoad. •

. I KUi-ssrd.it wan one of those glooinyluykiiis placet, with a huge wire screen tigbi across the window, and ihe times oi ihe-dottor'a hours there printed on it —■where the poor people coine in shoals wffli their bottles and babies, and are aeen ami pilled for a shilling a head, or less! And 1 wasn't far wrong; it was tery, very gloomy from the outside— in fact, it nearly depressed me so much at first that I nearly went away again! On second thoughts, I turned back and marched in with a patient. There were crowds of tbem, sitting ana standing, in a dingily-lighted wait T ing room, and they all stared at me as if 1 wen a lunatic! Then a door burst open, and a fussy,

fat little man, with the kindest and ' keenest of eyes, appeared. He was busily buttoning his coat—l afterwards.' found that he always did this, and <t meant absolutely nothing, for be un- ( buttoned it again just as busily. •• Dr. Fraser!" 1 queried, going towards him. "'May I speak to you a moment':'' He was quite astonished at teeing me. and I followed him into his room, "here he silently offered me a chair. " You advertised for an afek-tant, I think?" I began, going straight to the point. "Have you got one yet? lic-cau-e I am a dispenser, and am looking for work." I stopped, as I thought by now he might have found his voice. " Dear, dear,' he said at last, " 1 new r I thought of a lady; though, of course. I've heard of 'em. Lady dispensed, 1 mean," he added, attacking a button vigorously. He walked up and down the room meditating. '" D "you think Ton eouf.t do my man's work for a time!" he asked, a." D'you think you'd like it r You look so—«r—clean—and they"—nod ding towards the door—"they don't!" 1 laughed at this. "' Please let me try," I said. "" Its just making up medicines. I suppose?'' Then 1 told him where 1 bad studied, and how I had passed my exams., and how I was longing to begin work. He seemed qnite interested, and finally remarked that \w couldn't get through that crowd alone, and he would In- delighted if I w«uld stop and help him then and there! "And I am glad her hair isn't red!" be murmured, at- n he really couldn't help himself. I wondered what on earth he meant, and I think I must have stared at him, for he began apologising profusely. " 1 often think aloud by mistake," be ■aid. "and, oh. I do hate red hair!" Thi« seemed to me very childi'h. What could it matter if he did* | The rlwpeiisary itself was a funny little place, in heathenish disorder. At my eol.cge I lull worked amongst the greatest cleanliness; method was the order of the day, so I'm afraid I was very much dismayed at the confusion that seemed to reign. ISottles and tobacco—splints and pills —cork*, letters, pipes, liandages, and ink. ~- all seemed hurled together, and in my silly ignorance, I asked: "And where do you dispense?" Dr. Fraser gave the things a shove—a kind of "move-np one" shove. "It's my man Terry." he explained. •'He and I make the most awful mess between us!" Well, finally I set to work. Dr. Fraser •vent back to his room, anil the patients. ■ ftcr he had seen tliem, came to me with t -rescriptions, which they handed through a slot in the wall—just like a ticket . oliee. I was quite the feature of the ?ning.

lireat excitement reigned in (lie waitit g-room—heads were craned forward a* !-i a« possible, just to catch sight of eh a strange" apparition filling their t'lcs, and. after they had received ii'-m, a great deal of sniffing and eaii- !: -n« lasting went on. l-anwhile,# wa- thoroughly happy. !' Fra-er was a charming man, and one ■ I the easiest to work with, always • 'pting his frightful untidiness. * I ■ \ him tnofe and more as the days i . by, and I mnld not help wondering v.] - such a delightful man, bo evidcntly eut out for very different work, should V Tving his life here in this poor qnar- ; - if London, acting the part of noth- »!!■ utter than a club doctor! ! ■ morning—l had been there nearly ■ \..k—f was sitting at the doctor's '■ -an. writing his letters, when he end J nly started from his seat and hegan .1 wlra vigorous buttoning of his coat. " Wi-s Hastings." he said hurriedly, "is it Wednesday? Dont say it is. V) ■• ■•. dear—confound it if it's Wednes dav!"

I: was Wednesday, and I «aid so. '•v. liegan paring up and down the 1 . •;.■ room, talking to himself aloud all th time. ' i ill. dear, dear—l ought to have ptlt h r off—why on earth didn't 1? But ' •M only come another day." •Icre followed a few little words kept !• doctor*' sanctums. Then: But of course another day wouldn't '■ v.- I.'.mi so bad—Wednesday's the very ■' ini- cheap day from the suburbs, and n-ier forgets it! Shell come. 100. ■c ! th-re'll lie no keeping quiet any l-n.-r! Of course she's promised, but " [

lie went on murmuring to himself. . ry much perturbed, and I couldn't . I'lli it all: hot what could he mean? Ail that day I puzzled over it—it was iike triing to guess a riddle-—quite jmi ■ -sible to lind a solution. That evening, lie fore any patients had ■pic. I was looking through l the '"tiekct.iie," when the outer door of the wai:- '■■ i room opened quietly, and a lady ■i.-pe-pd in. She was tail and slight, n.-iring trailing black, wrth ! neat, little, v. hite muslin collar and enffi. ami long. t!"k a widow. For a second she stood still: tlien. nut *eciug me, she moved totrands Dr. Kramer's door. She had a rnrinu* walk—-be -""tned to just slip along! As she passed under the window. I ■ >ocht a gleam of flaming red. It was her hair—the most wonderful, curling. 1 la/ing mass I have ever se«n. She disa -[wired into his room, and those child-i-i. words of his Tushed into my mind: " f do hate red hair!" f made up a liottle of medicine for 'i .-—something for nerve-. Tlw poor i. n brought me the prescription, and I n longer had anv doubt that thi- «i----thc dreaded "she'." Be very quick." he wjii-pcrrb!. " 1 tnii-t get rid of her—l must stop her "lining here!" It seemed a funny irny to tall, if -'•■• ore a patient—paving onys were K-d!y m->,led! » • I know shell «. m , ' T.'.!■•■! ori. as 1 wrote on the til»- ; . : ,i-l'e maine." "It's these cheap •'•-. confound them? Xo woman emibl ..» : -t them! And then she'll :iwet her. and then there'll be " I thrust the bottle into hi- haw! and he scuttled awav. How i-wild. "J I fell. Was this some fio-n. f.Kili b lady porsning the doctor for ■.■■ an: '<< -nnvfiling better to do. after >'<■• -tvle of a ■•iiratr-hunt? She didn't look 'hit kind. And how many "-he's" "ne 'acre? I watched her tro. She s!io:'"d <• 'v i= - tb» same peculiar mano-r -le- lei ■■■•me. and for a moment the menr >"••'' li': T 't el liv that passing f!--h ••' b'ilii'ut colour. Dr. Fraser -lon <H- >h«•■ " fill a -nip. and feveri-hli tj.-U-d hi- lotton«. "Thank Heaven!" lie riio. »ith i -!•_•'■ of reiief.

1 darps.iv lie would lui- < .lUd .-i '» himself, ln'rt there eaiee -l ■' '.-o'.t.iry I poek at tho door, nn.i :-. .:h<r I"'' i-alkpd ill. tln« tiiii- 1 p. i ■'■'••'■■ - ! '" ,„,..p'ssp,t but di-.-oi-.iPni■:' •■<'•■'■ ' •"'ii. t think Ik-i h.iir > > ■':.•'■'•■- '•"' i.'t inwted my alli-mi" ■ > "■ J l -' ' 1.1. ateeljrrpv .-v.- ' a !-"-k«' • vi-lit through nip. la- ilm-tor dartod up. -\-itb.i. my rWr'" hp '. ' " 'VI..' .-- --irpri-e! ist me iiit'-i''- ! - •'- '-! ant pro torn. —Mis* '! -ii"r- ■ ii wiii-." Wp lmwpd. Imt nho addf—"l : -r--' to him. -Yon alivavs fnrpot tha' is a i-lioap train dav" .-h.- -aid p« ■ L-"=TV-'Von know how I havo to -Did. ' ''' otny." *• i, » \ ■ '

So this was the other "she "I And how relieved Dr. Fraser was. that one had gone l>efore the other came! I!ut why should he lie so anxious for tin-in not in meet! [-Surely it wan Usual enough inr him to see ladies profession allvr

Wa» his wife's devotion the kind which .nuld not -i-e him with an attractive woman without pangs of jealousy? if physiognomy ever meant anything, she didn't care a rap about her husband—his success for her own gain was her chief object in life, however unsuccessful. And, in any case, would a little jealoucy be enough to cause all this agitation on the doctor's part? I didn't think so, and, Eve-like, 1 longed to understand the mystery. Weeks went by and we had no visitors, except the poor people. Dr. Eraser worked frantically hard, for starvation wages, it ueenied to me. His wife was living some seven miles out of London—in a suburb called Maiden, where he returned every night, 1 should say to an unsympathetic companion. It »eenie<l to me that he was totally u'nsuited to this kind of life, and, though lie took it nil so cheerfully, I wondered more and more why he did it. Before I left him, 1 was to lind out.

One morning, another Wednesday, Dr. Fraser was sorting his correspondence', and I wa«t sitting at his bureau again—--1 think writing an order for drugs—when he suddenly tlung a letter down by my side, with the gloomy remark: "Oh, why does she always choose Wednesday Read it," he said miserably. 1 think be had forgotten I was almost a stringer to him, and could know nothing of his private affairs. 1 took the letter—it came from a boarding house in Kensington, and this is what 1 read: Dear Xonnan,— I am sorry, but 1 must see you again quite Koon. 1 shall hope to find you in, same time to-morrow evening. You will say I am hysterical, 1 know, but 1 have dreamt the same dream again—the same that brought me back from Swtzerland three months ago. I stand looking at my dear self, reproaching myself bitterly for not having spoken in time. So I cannot keep my promise; you must absolve me. It may I* nothing but presentiment, but I think 1 am going to die soon.— i ours, Monica Castlemaine.

I put it down silently. What could 1 say: "That's to-day,'" he began dismally. "And it's Wednesday— ten to one Agatha »ill come—and she'll want explanations, and it will all come out!" "1 am sorry," I said feebly. "Is there anything I can do?" But he didn't even hear me, and I utole away to the dispensary. What pathos lay in those few lines! I felt that curious lump rise in my throat, as I tried to fix some sort of meaning to the words. I know lives can be led apart from theme who seem nearest; was this the case with Dr. Fraser!

Early that evening a telegram came. It was from his wife, asking him to meet her in the city, and bring h?r back with him. Thi- was the last straw, and I think ■or the moment lie was so distracted that he was not responsible for bis actions. Ju«t as be was starting, a man came in with a bad cough, and he stopped a moment to see him.

I shall never forget my surprise when I looked at the prescription he left. 'The man was to return for the medicine, and for some moments I stood staring at Ihe thing, petrified. For it was the most poisonous mixture any one could well (oiiiiH-t! Vntil then I had not realist d how serious must be Dr. Eraser's trouble. I tore the paper to shreds and burnt it. 1 was wondering what 1 could do, when the door opened, and the same tall, black figure appeared, in widow's weeds, slipping along towards the other door! And immediately I made up my mind to sjieak to her. I followed her into the study and told her Dr. Fra.-er was out, and that it would lw uselcs to wait for him. ft was little I knew, but I felt certain he would be grateful if the 'dreaded meeting could be avoided, and I didn't know how soon he might return with his wife.

" I mii-l see liini," she answered quietly, looking at me. I *aw li.t fare then fnr tlie first time, it iva« >o delicate and white, and oh, so sad. I couldn't think of any answer, and she suddenly smiled at me. From that moment, rightly or wrongly, my sympathies were all for her—i'felt certain, whatever her secret, there would be no blame to east on her. I believe Ml*. Castleisainc guessed my thoughts, but all she -slid was:

"I hope he won't be very long; you must let me wait a little while." She fascinated me strangely; that pathetic letter of hers came back to my mind, and I wished I could help her. Hut I wa, absolutely in the dark, except that 1 knew she must not meet Mr«. Fraser. I left her sitting there, and racked my brains as to how f could make her go. Meanwhile the man sat waiting for his medicine; I gave him a liottle from one of our stock mixtures. The enormity of that prescription grew upon me as I sat alone in the di«|ien-ary. It was not its danger that appalled me—it was really much too ludicrous for anvone to dream of dispensing it! What bothered me was that he should lie upset enough to do such a thing. My thoughts kept flying to that wonderful red-haired woman next door, who was th<. direct cause of it, I knew. Was there any way 1 could get rid of lier; Would an impromptu accident make her fly? I felt it wouldn't do; she would see through it and just smile at me again. I suddenly thought of telling her the truth: would it be so very difficult» 1 went into the study, with a copy of the pre-cription—l couldn't easily forget it!

"Look," I said. "Do you know anything of medicine?" She didn't, and I told her what it wan. " If- dreadful that Dr. Fraser should write that, isn't it!" I said. She started. "He didn't mean anyone to take it, did he?" she cried.

1 -at down opposite her. "\e-, he did," I answered. I didn't tell her it was safe in any dispenser's hand-. "He is frightfully worried," I went on. and that's, how it happened. 1 am -o anxious about him that I don't know what I ought to do. Just now he went away quite upset, though he has only gone to meet bis wife." ""he -topped me with a gesture of sur-pri-e. '•Agatha!" -he said. " I wonder what -he'- like after all these years! Do I want to meet her! I don't think 1 doit would lie nothing but questions and question... and I should have to answer—and Norman no. you are right, little woman. I had Is-tter go." She turned

to in,. «ith oiit-tn-tehcd hand, '•(ioodto.c." -lit- -aid. "I will mine tomorrow. Will run tell Dr. Fraser?" Then -he -miled again—it was a bewilderingly pretty sinib—ran through the u;iitiiio r.Hiiii and away. What an e.\lr -ilinary woman! Had my warning lieen -o oliviou-. or was it a plain la.t that -he did not want to -ce Mr- Fra-er: I wi- very glad she had gone. Though I ,-ouldn't help hoping t„ meet her again, and understand what at present wi- all -o confusing. The n-\t morning I found a letter .•.ailing f. r me intii her. This ~.-,- it: "l>ear Little Di-p.-n-.-r. Il don't know your u ime. von i. I am going to f-oiitiile in von. heraine von were 0..,„| to me ve-lenlav. 'l am grate tul I did no- in.-ei Mr-. I'rn-ei. What I am gone: io tell von will ,-„oi, I,- known l.v evervon'e. but I -bo'ild not like it to he through her.

.in-1 iiii.l-.Mhi-lli- In-!' i-iirio-ilv aliom ~» .li-.|.|,.-.u.i.i.p would h.ivi- 1,,-,-,, tn-i ilil'e lilt for HIP ti, -.< 1111-1.1t1.1. ;,l, I I ,|-,ni think I i-oidd Pinliirp li.-r Inn. though I m.M .I.- em- it. -Mi hu-l.mil n'a- Dr. Krasei". lull hroth-r. 11.-''-■-, - -i wal; man: l„- fop.-.-d .i .-h,-.|ii,-. Tin- l.ianie foil ii|iori hi- Mother: hi- refused to •■lear hini-nW. .in-! to this day no one kiiou- that Dr. Kr.i-pr wn- not 11. . riiirn.il. Tlu- affair w.i- liu-ln-.l no :,l hi- |„.-,.iial. !mt In- «a- rnin-d. Up ii|oli..-,l rlurlie. and s,, for liiM.,,„l- .iii.l mill. In- -.,, rili.v-l hinnell. In a iv.-ak i --m. I pr-mi-ed him to k-pp it ..- i.-l. hut cvpi- sinpp my Im-lund's de.nl. 1 havp 1 ii liegging him to nd.-a-p hip. until f alim.-l t'i'-iik hp hates Hi" *ight of hip. • V. ii M.-i- right in thinking I upset I.im even to mak- him presenile -n .' ii-pr..ii-lv. I .-amiot hear it any 1.-i-wr. i kno« that I shall dip ]•■■■■■ ■ t-II Dr. K, i-.-r not to expert IV- tho 'imp 'hi- rcai-hes yo.t I -1...11 1.-, v- hrok-Mi m.v word, and ho «ill lii - to thank hip." I'll.- • « i- -i.. -igiiatun-. IVihap« -1,,, p.,.- . liani.-i- of the mine -he bore. t ~.'! 1 hid wilki-d iin'iiddi-ii into tin-i,.-iri ..f a ira-piii. Vha: right hail I ... k„..-i .iiiv of this' And ypl. afl.-r ,11. ii -nix mad.- imp admin- Dr. Kra-el-even more than before. He must have

been devoted indeed to this half-brother [ of hia to bear such disgrace lor his sake. 1 picked up the letter again- -a great wave uf compassion swept over me as I thought of the writer, with her sad presentiment of death. Shou.d I give it straight to Dr. Fraser, or wnat shnulJ I do! As 1 was wondering, a policeman trod heavily in and asked for tin >.. • i.... " There's a accident, sir," 1 heard him say, "up at St. Luke's 'Orspital —a ladj pretty nigh killed by a motor. Shi . askin' for you, sir—and your dispenser, too, sir." The sentences were jerked out breathlessly—ho had hurried, and instinctively I felt the lady waa Mrs. Castlemaine. " Don't know her name, sir," 1 heard next; "but begging your pardon, sir, she's what they call beautiful, with a wunnerful lot of red hair." We drove rapidly to St. Luke's. Her presentiment was a true one; she died as we reached her bedside. By the bed stood Mr. P , the great consulting surgeon, and two others. One by one they came and grasped Dr. Eraser's hands. '• We could do nothing for her." i of them said, " but she's done her leu for you."

I (dipped away. The secret wis out. and nothing could hush it up again. The doctor's good name waß his once more. for Mrs. Castlemaine had broken h-r word, and Fate had so arranged that hei tale should be heard by the right peop'e —she had lived long enough to tell it all to the surgeon. I heafcl afterwards that he didn't let the matter n*t. and that Dr. Fraser took his rightful place nt li-t among his colleagues. I have often wondered what Agatha thought of it all. It seems extranrdinary that she should never have known what her husband endured—l lielieve I was right in calling her unsympathetic! This nil happened years ago. 1 have forgotten her face entirely, and have only, a blurred remembrance of the doctor's—but Mrs. Castlemaine's image is as vivid to me as when 1 last s» her. Jt will be long before I forget th • woman with "the wunnerful lot of red hair."