Sunday was always a lonely day to me. In the country village, where I knew everybody, I always looked forward to it as the pleasantest day of the week. Here in the crowded city, I felt isolated from human sympathy. I accustomed myself to attending church in the forenoon. In the afternoon I took a walk or an excursion.

At the boarding-house even it was dull and less social than usual. Such of the boarders as had friends near the city were able to absent themselves after breakfast. Among the faces that I missed was that of the Disagreeable Woman. Sometimes she appeared at breakfast; but never at dinner or tea. Though she never indulged in conversation to any extent, I think we all missed her.

One Sunday afternoon, soon after the gathering described in the last chapter, I walked up Fifth Avenue to Central Park. It was a pleasant day and many were out. Through the magnificent avenue I walked in a leisurely way, and wondered idly how it would seem to own a residence in this aristocratic street. I could not repress a feeling of envy when I thought of the favored class who dwelt in the long line of palaces that line the avenue. Their lives seemed far removed from that of a struggling physician, who was in daily doubt how long he could maintain his modest style of living in the crowded metropolis.

Arrived at Fifty-ninth street I sauntered toward the menagerie. This is the favorite resort of children, and of young persons from the country. Perhaps I, myself, might be classed among the latter. I did not care so much, however, to observe the animals as the visitors. I had a hope that I might see some one whom I knew.

At first I could see no familiar face. But presently I started, as my glance fell on the short and somewhat plump figure of the young woman from Macy's.

She was not alone. With her walked a tall, sun-burned young man, who was evidently from the country. She leaned confidingly upon his arm, and her face was radiant. He was evidently an old friend, perhaps a lover. He, too, looked contented and happy. Were they lovers? It looked like it. If so, the matrimonial plans of Prof. Poppendorf were doomed to disappointment. Delicacy dictated my silent withdrawal, but I confess that my curiosity was aroused, and I resolved to gratify it.

Accordingly I pressed forward and overtook the young woman from Macy's and her escort. She looked up casually, and a little flush overspread her face when she recognized me.

"Dr. Fenwick!" she said, impulsively.

I turned and lifted my hat.

"I am glad to meet you, Miss Canby!" I said.

At the same time I looked inquiringly at her escort.

"Stephen," she said, "this is Dr. Fenwick from our boarding-house."

"Proud to know you, sir," said the young man, offering his hand.

I shook it heartily.

"You have not mentioned your friend's name, Miss Canby," I said.

"Excuse me! I am very neglectful. This is Stephen Higgins from our town. I used to go to school with him."

"I am glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Higgins."

"Same to you, sir."

"I suppose you are on a visit to the city, Mr. Higgins."

"Yes, sir. I came here to spend Sunday, and see Ruth."

"I presume you have been in the city before?"

"Not for five years. It's a pretty smart place. I'm so turned round that I hardly know which way to turn."

"You will have a good guide in Miss Canby."

"In Ruth, yes."

"I wish I could go round with him all the time he is here, Dr. Fenwick, but to-morrow I shall have to go back to my work at Macy's."

She gave a little sigh as she spoke.

"Do you intend to stay long, Mr. Higgins?"

"Only a day or two. It's pretty expensive stayin' in York."

"I want him to stay over till Tuesday, Dr. Fenwick. He can't see much if he goes home to-morrow."

"If you could be with me, Ruth—"

"But I can't, so it's no use talking about it."

"Wouldn't Mr. Macy give you a day off?"

"If I could find him perhaps he would," she said, laughing.

"Why can't you find him? Isn't he at the store every day?"

"Mr. Macy is dead, Stephen."

"Then how can he keep store?" asked Stephen, bewildered.

"Somebody else runs it in his name?"

"Don't let me interfere with your plans," I said, feeling that perhaps I might be in the way.

They both urged me to stay, and so I did.

By this time all the attractions of the menagerie had been seen, and I proposed to walk to the lake.

"How would you like to live in the city, Mr. Higgins?" I asked.

"First rate, if I could find anything to do."

"What is your business at home?"

"I work on father's farm. Next year, as father's gettin' feeble, I may take it on shares."

"That will be better, perhaps, than seeking a situation in the city."

"I should like to be here on account of Ruth," he said, wistfully.

She smiled and shook her head.

"There's nothing for me to do in the country," she said.

"I might find something for you to do," he said, eagerly.

Then I saw how it was, and felt inclined to help him.

"Do you like Macy's so well, then?" I asked.

"I don't know," she answered, thoughtfully, "I like to feel that I am earning my living."

"You wouldn't need," commenced Stephen, but she checked him by a look.

"You might not like to part with the Professor," said I, mischievously.

Stephen took instant alarm.

"What Professor?" he asked.

"Professor Poppendorf. He is a German, a very learned man."

"And what have you got to do with the Professor, Ruth?" he asked, jealously.

"Oh, you foolish boy!" she said. "You ought to see him."

"I don't want to see him."

"He is an old gentleman, most seventy, and wears green glasses."

Stephen looked relieved.

"By the way, did you have a pleasant evening with the Professor at the theatre the other evening, Miss Canby?"

It was very reprehensible of me, I know, but I felt a little mischievous.

"Did you go to the theatre with him, Ruth?" asked Stephen, reproachfully.

"Yes, I am so fond of the theatre, you know, I could not resist the temptation."

"What did you see?"

"I went to see Crane in the Senator. Where do you think we sat?" and she laughed.

"I don't know."

"In the upper gallery. The idea of asking a lady to sit in the top of the house!"

"The Professor is a German, and all Germans are frugal. I presume he thought you would be perfectly satisfied. Did the Professor appear to enjoy the play?"

"Very much. He did not always understand it, and asked me to explain it to him. Now and then he burst into such a loud laugh that I felt quite ashamed. Then I was glad that we were in the top gallery."

"When the play was over did he invite you to take an ice-cream at Delmonico's or Maillard's?"

"No, but he invited me into a saloon to take a glass of lager."

Here she laughed again.

"Evidently the Professor is not a ladies' man. Did you accept the beer?"

"As if I would!"

"Poor man! you deprived him of a pleasure."

"No, I did not. He left me on the sidewalk while he went in and took his beer."

"I hope you won't go to the theatre with him again," said Stephen, in a tone of dissatisfaction.

"You can rest quite easy, Stephen, I won't."

"What made him ask you to go?"

"You will have to ask him, Stephen. If you will come round to supper this evening, I will introduce you to him. There will be plenty of room, as some of our boarders are always away on Sunday."

Stephen felt a little bashful at first, but finally yielded to persuasion and took his place at the table in the seat of the Disagreeable Woman.

After seeing the Professor he got over his jealousy. The old German scholar hardly suggested a young Lothario, and his appearance was not calculated to excite jealousy. Prof. Poppendorf removed his goggles the better to observe Ruth's friend, but did not appear to be disturbed. That Ruth should prefer this young rustic to a man of his position and attainments, would have seemed to him quite out of the range of probability.