The poor seemed to be growing
poorer--the difficulty of getting a fee became greater--the ladies
seemed more and more determined to show their dislike and aversion.
Matters were growing desperate, thought Dr. Letsom on this autumn night,
as he stood watching the chrysanthemums and the fading light in the
western sky. Money was becoming a rare commodity with him. His
housekeeper, Mrs. Galbraith had long been evincing signs of great
discontent. She had not enough for her requirements--she wanted money
for a hundred different things, and the doctor had none to give her. The
curtains were worn and shabby, the carpets full of holes, the furniture,
though clean and well preserved, was totally insufficient. In vain the
doctor assured her he had not the means; after the fashion of
weak-minded women, she grumbled incessantly. On this night he felt
overwhelmed with cares. The rent due the preceding June had not been
paid; the gas and coal accounts were still unsettled; the butcher had
sent in his "little bill;" the baker had looked anything but pleased at
the non-payment of his. The doctor sadly wanted a new hat--and he had
hardly money in hand for the week's expenses.
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