The Love Affair of Chesterfield, Jr.
ist's and get this prescription filled for me? You need not wait—have them send it up. But pay for it, and keep the change." She slipped a silver dollar into his hand.
"You look tired, too," she added, with that beautiful sympathy only she could exhibit, as she turned again to her work. "I prescribe a glass of soda-water for you, to be taken before you come back."
Chesterfield retreated, his whole small frame one delicious glow. As he drank the soda-water reverently, while waiting for the prescription to be put up, his young heart swelled. She had rested her hand on his shoulder, she had noticed that he was tired, she was treating him to soda-water this very minute. Did ever a boy have such a divinity to worship? The question was an absolutely rhetorical one for Chesterfield. He returned to his desk and wrote her a note to accompany the prescription.
Dear Miss Neville,—The sody-water was very nice. I think it did me good. I hop your hed is beter.
Yours as ever,
Chesterfield.
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