rse he could--and would, I've no doubt. He's only after his
mother's prescription. Send him in here next, will you, please?"

To the tall, well-built, black-eyed young man who answered this summons
in some surprise at being admitted before his turn, Burns spoke crisply:

"Here's the prescription, Jord, and you'll have to take it to Wood's to
get it filled. I hope it'll do your mother a lot of good, but I'm not
promising till I've tried it out pretty well. Now will you do me a
favour?"

"Anything you like, Doctor."

"Thanks. I'm sending a patient to the hospital--a stranger stranded here
ill. She ought not to be out of bed another hour, though she walked to
the office and would walk away again if I'd let her--which I won't. I
can't get off for three hours yet. Will you take her in to the Good
Samaritan for me? I'll telephone ahead, and some one will meet her at
the door. All right?"

He looked up. Jordan King--young civil engineer of rising reputation in
spite of the family wealth which would have made him independent of his
own exertions, if he could possibly have been induced by an adoring,
widowed mother to remain under her wing--stood watching him with a smile
on his character-betraying lips.

"You ought to have an executive position of some sort, Doctor Burns," he
observed, "you're so strong on orders. I've got mine. Where's the lady?
Do I have to be silent or talkative? Is she to have pillows? Am I to
help her out?"

"She'll walk out--but that and the walk in will be the last she'll take
for some time. Talk as much as you like; it'll help her to forget that
she's alone in the world at present except for us. Go out to your car;
I'll send her out with Miss Mathewson."

Burns turned to his desk, and King obediently went out. Five minutes
later, as he stood waiting beside his car, a fine but hard-used roadster
of impressive lines and plenty of power, the office nurse and her
patient emerged. King noted in some surprise the slender young figure,
the interest-compelling face with its too vivid colour in cheeks that
looked as if ordinarily they were white, the apparel which indicated
lack of means, though the bearing of the wearer unmistakably suggested
social training.

"I thought she'd be an elderly one somehow," he said in congratulation
of himself. "Jolly, what hair! Poor little girl; she does look sick--but
plucky. Hope I can get her in all right."

Outwardly he was the picture of respectful attention as