Free Doctor Hudson’s Secret Journal by Lloyd C. Douglas Page B

stunned. He held his red head on one side, quizzically, staring at me with a stupefied incredulity that made me laugh. I led the way in, and he followed me like a sleep-walker. We went up to the apartment where the middle-aged maid met us saying that dinner was ready and drying up.
    “If you’ll excuse me,” mumbled Tim, “I don’t want any.” He went to his little room and shut the door.
    “What’s the matter with him?” asked Lizzie, grimly.
    “He’ll be all right,” I said. “Keep something warm for him.”
    About nine o’clock he came into our small living-room and sat down close beside me.
    “Doctor Hudson,” he began, nervously.
    “Don’t try to make a speech, Tim,” I interposed. “You re going to be a doctor; and doctors aren’t often very good speech-makers. I know how you feel. You are very happy, and so am I. I have never been this happy before.”
    “I’ll do my best,” gulped Tim.
    “I know you will,” I declared. “Now, I want you to promise me that you will never tell this to a living soul. It is nobody’s business but ours how you got a chance to go to the university. It is our secret. I have a reason, and a very good one, for wanting this to remain private. Will you promise?”
    Tim promised, and we shook hands on it.
    ♦
    Two Sundays elapsed before I went out to see Randolph again. I had phoned what time I would be there and he was waiting for me at the gate. I had gone out on a streetcar, getting off at the nearest point, two blocks away.
    “I see you’re afoot,” said Randolph, extending his hand. “Car laid up?”
    “Sold it,” I said, casually. “Hadn’t much use for it. Streetcars go everywhere and are less expensive.”
    It was too chilly to have supper on the lawn. A table had been set up in the living-room near the fireplace. The maid was off duty and Natalie served us. I had not noticed before how rapidly the girl was blossoming into a young woman. She was becoming very pretty.
    Ordinarily, when Natalie had supper with us, she made no effort to participate in the conversation and excused herself promptly when the coffee came on. Tonight she was willing to talk. Randolph seemed surprised and pleased. I drew her out, and she chattered about her school, her teachers, and the thrill she was having, every afternoon, at a riding academy. It was her first close acquaintance with horses, and she was having the time of her young life. Natalie seemed a different person. She had never before paid me the compliment of showing the slightest interest in me. Now she looked me squarely in the eyes and talked animatedly, as if we were long-time comrades and contemporaries.
    When she left us, for a moment, to bring on the salad, Randolph chuckled a little, and said, “I don’t know what you’ve done to Natalie.”
    “She’s a charming girl,” I said. “I’m glad she wanted to talk.”
    “I think,” said Randolph, slowly, “she has just discovered something in you that she had not recognized before; a high capacity for friendship, maybe.”
    It was a delightful evening. Natalie went to her own room, about ten, shaking hands with me before she left and saying, very prettily, that I must come again soon. I was much stirred and a little bewildered, too, over this unaccustomed attention.
    Randolph and I discussed almost everything of current interest. I surprised myself by taking the lead in most of our conversation. When I rose to go, he said, “You’re in uncommonly high spirits tonight, Hudson. Perhaps your work at the hospital is growing more pleasant.”
    “Yes,” I replied. “I have really enjoyed it, lately.”
    Randolph looked me steadily in the eyes and drew a sly smile, accompanied by a slow wink.
    I grinned, in spite of my effort to be poker-faced. He reached out his hand and I took it. He laid his other hand on our warm clasp and affectionately patted my fingers.
    “I am very happy for you, my friend,” he said, softly. “It is easy to see that life has