“Is he clever?” asked the patient.

“Clever!  ’E be that clever, it drops orf ’im.”

When, with the patient’s consent, Mrs Gowler set out to fetch the doctor, she, also at the girl’s request, sent a telegram to Mrs Scatchard, asking her to send on at once any letters that may have come for Mavis.  She was sustained by a hope that Perigal may have written to her former address.

“Got yer shillin’ ready?” asked Mrs Gowler, an hour or so later.  “’E’ll be up in a minute.”

Two minutes later, Mrs Gowler threw the door wide open to admit Dr Baldock.  Mavis saw a short, gross-looking, middle-aged man, who was dressed in a rusty frock-coat; he carried an old bowler hat and two odd left-hand gloves.  Mrs Gowler detailed Mavis’s symptoms, the while Dr Baldock stood stockstill with his eyes closed, as if intently listening to the nurse’s words.  When she had finished, the doctor caught hold of Mavis’s wrist; at the same time, he fumbled for his watch in his waistcoat pocket; not finding it, he dropped her arm and asked her to put out her tongue.  After examining this, and asking her a few questions, he told her to keep quiet; also, that he would look in again during the evening to see how she was getting on.

“Doctor’s fee,” said Mrs Gowler, as she thrust herself between the doctor and the bed.

Mavis put the shilling in her hand, at which the landlady left the room, to be quickly followed by the doctor, who seemed equally eager to go.  Mavis, with aching head, wondered if the evening post would bring her the letter she hungered for from North Kensington.

An hour later, a note was thrust beneath her door.  She got out of bed to fetch it, to read the following, scrawled with a pencil upon a soiled half sheet of paper:—­

“Don’t you go and be a fool and have no more of Piggy’s doctors.  He isn’t a doctor at all, and is nothing more than a coal merchant’s tally-man, who got the sack for taking home coals in the bag he carried his dinner in.  My baby is all right, but he squints.  Does yours?—­I remain yours truly, the permannente, Milly Burt.”

Anger possessed Mavis at the trick Mrs Gowler had played in order to secure a further shilling from her already attenuated store, an emotion which increased her distress of mind.  When Mrs Gowler brought in the midday meal, which to-day consisted of fried fish and potatoes from the neighbouring fried fish shop, Mavis said: 

“If that man comes here again, I’ll order him out.”

“The doctor!” gasped Mrs Gowler.

“He’s an impostor.  He’s no doctor.”

“‘E’s as good as one any day, an’ much cheaper.”

“How dare he come into my room!  I shall stop the shilling out of my bill.”

“You will, will yer!  You try it on,” cried Mrs Gowler defiantly.

“I believe he could be prosecuted, if I told the police about it,” remarked Mavis.

At the mention of “police,” Mrs Gowler’s face became rigid.  She recovered herself and picked out for Mavis the least burned portion of fish; she also gave her a further helping of potatoes, as she said: