“Oh, very well; of course you must go; but don’t forget our appointment.  Let’s see, Dr. Price, I can eat and get ready in half an hour—­that will make it”—­

“I have asked several of the local physicians to be present at eight o’clock,” said Dr. Price.  “The case can safely wait until then.”

“Very well, Miller, be on hand at eight.  I shall expect you without fail.  Where shall he come, Dr. Price?”

“To the residence of Major Philip Carteret, on Vine Street.”

“I have invited Dr. Miller to be present and assist in the operation,” Dr. Burns continued, as they drove toward the hotel.  “He was a favorite pupil of mine, and is a credit to the profession.  I presume you saw his article in the Medical Gazette?”

“Yes, and I assisted him in the case,” returned Dr. Price.  “It was a colored lad, one of his patients, and he called me in to help him.  He is a capable man, and very much liked by the white physicians.”

Miller’s wife and child were waiting for him in fluttering anticipation.  He kissed them both as he climbed into the buggy.

“We came at four o’clock,” said Mrs. Miller, a handsome young woman, who might be anywhere between twenty-five and thirty, and whose complexion, in the twilight, was not distinguishable from that of a white person, “but the train was late two hours, they said.  We came back at six, and have been waiting ever since.”

“Yes, papa,” piped the child, a little boy of six or seven, who sat between them, “and I am very hungry.”

Miller felt very much elated as he drove homeward through the twilight.  By his side sat the two persons whom he loved best in all the world.  His affairs were prosperous.  Upon opening his office in the city, he had been received by the members of his own profession with a cordiality generally frank, and in no case much reserved.  The colored population of the city was large, but in the main poor, and the white physicians were not unwilling to share this unprofitable practice with a colored doctor worthy of confidence.  In the intervals of the work upon his hospital, he had built up a considerable practice among his own people; but except in the case of some poor unfortunate whose pride had been lost in poverty or sin, no white patient had ever called upon him for treatment.  He knew very well the measure of his powers,—­a liberal education had given him opportunity to compare himself with other men,—­and was secretly conscious that in point of skill and knowledge he did not suffer by comparison with any other physician in the town.  He liked to believe that the race antagonism which hampered his progress and that of his people was a mere temporary thing, the outcome of former conditions, and bound to disappear in time, and that when a colored man should demonstrate to the community in which he lived that he possessed character and power, that community would find a way in which to enlist his services for the public good.