



Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)









                          DR. RUMSEY'S PATIENT

                         _A VERY STRANGE STORY_

                      BY L. T. MEAD AND DR. HALIFAX

          JOINT AUTHORS OF "STORIES FROM THE DIARY OF A DOCTOR"


    NEW YORK
    HURST & COMPANY
    PUBLISHERS

    COPYRIGHTED, 1896, BY
    THE INTERNATIONAL NEWS COMPANY
    _ALL RIGHTS RESERVED_



[Illustration: MRS L. T. MEADE.]




DR. RUMSEY'S PATIENT.




CHAPTER I.


Two young men in flannels were standing outside the door of the Red Doe
in the picturesque village of Grandcourt. The village contained one long
and straggling street. The village inn was covered with ivy, wistaria,
flowering jessamine, monthly roses, and many other creepers. The flowers
twined round old-fashioned windows, and nodded to the guests when they
awoke in the morning and breathed perfume upon them as they retired to
bed at night. In short, the Inn was an ideal one, and had from time
immemorial found favor with reading parties, fishermen, and others who
wanted to combine country air and the pursuit of health with a certain
form of easy amusement. The two men who now stood in the porch were
undergraduates from Balliol. There was nothing in the least remarkable
about their appearance--they looked like what they were, good-hearted,
keen-witted young Englishmen of the day. The time was evening, and as
the Inn faced due west the whole place was bathed in warm sunshine.

"This heat is tremendous and there is no air," said Everett, the younger
of the students. "How can you stand that sun beating on your head,
Frere? I'm for indoors."

"Right," replied Frere. "It is cool enough in the parlor."

As he spoke he took a step forward and gazed down the winding village
street. There was a look of pleased expectation in his eyes. He seemed
to be watching for some one. A girl appeared, walking slowly up the
street. Frere's eye began to dance. Everett, who was about to go into
the shady parlor, gave him a keen glance--and for some reason his eyes
also grew bright with expectation.

"There's something worth looking at," he exclaimed in a laughing voice.

"What did you say?" asked Frere gruffly.

"Nothing, old man--at least nothing special. I say, doesn't Hetty look
superb?"

"You've no right to call her Hetty."

Everett gave a low whistle.

"I rather fancy I have," he answered--"she gave me leave this morning."

"Impossible," said Frere. He turned pale under all his sunburn, and bit
his lower lip. "Don't you find the sun very hot?" he asked.

"No, it is sinking into the west--the great heat is over. Let us go and
enliven this little charmer."

"I will," said Frere suddenly. "You had better stay here where you are.
It is my right," he added. "I was about to tell you so, when she came in
view."

"Your right?" cried Everett; he looked disturbed.

Frere did not reply, but strode quickly down the village street. A dozen
strides brought him up to Hetty's side. She was a beautiful girl, with a
face and figure much above her station. Her hat was covered with wild
flowers which she had picked in her walk, and coquettishly placed there.
She wore a pink dress covered with rosebuds--some wild flowers were
stuck into her belt. As Frere advanced to meet her, her laughing eyes
were raised to his face--there was a curious mixture of timidity and
audacity in their glance.

"I have a word to say to you," he accosted her in a gruff tone. "What
right had you to give Everett leave to call you Hetty?"

The timidity immediately left the bright eyes, and a slight expression
of anger took its place.

"Because I like to distribute my favors, Mr. Horace."

She quickened her pace as she spoke. Everett, who had been standing
quite still in the porch watching the little scene, came out to meet the
pair. Hetty flushed crimson when she saw him; she raised her dancing,
charming dark eyes to his face, then looked again at Frere, who turned
sullenly away.

"I hope, gentlemen, you have had good sport," said the rustic beauty, in
her demure voice.

"Excellent," replied Everett.

They had now reached the porch, which was entwined all over with
honeysuckle in full flower. A great spray of the fragrant flower nearly
touched the girl's charming face. She glanced again at Frere. He would
not meet her