been an inmate. When a man is going on eighty,
he is not as vigorous as he once was. Formerly a waiter at Delmonico's,
he found the pace too swift. His mind gave way, and a rich patron,
pitying his condition, sent him to "Sea Rest." For a long time now he
had been cured, but, broken in spirit, he found he could not return to
the old life, so he had remained at the asylum in the capacity of
attendant.

"Yes--sir," he gasped, between spasms of coughing.

The superintendent looked at him severely:

"Collins, did you buy six packets of cigarettes for Miss Manderson?"

The old man cowered. He was afraid of the superintendent. He had reason
to dread those cold douches.

"No, sir," he replied, trembling.

"Are you sure?" demanded the superintendent.

"Yes, sir," answered the old man hesitatingly, his eyes on the floor.

"Look at me," thundered the superintendent.

"Yes, sir."

He looked up timidly and shook his head.

"Don't you know," almost shouted the superintendent, "that she has come
to 'Sea Rest' to recuperate from an overdose of social life, and that
she must not smoke?"

"Yes, sir."

"You've been a waiter all your life, Collins--and I'm afraid that the
old instinct to take tips is too strong."

"It's hard to refuse sometimes, sir," replied the old man, his knees
shaking, "but I manage to overcome my feelings--occasionally."

The indicator again rang. The superintendent turned.

"It's the front door," he said, with a gesture to go and answer the
bell.

"It's Dr. Bently, sir," rejoined the old man.

As Collins went to open the outside door, the superintendent turned to
the stenographer.

"Make a note in your report suggesting that Miss Manderson's money be
taken from her while she is an inmate of the sanitarium."

"Yes, sir."

The superintendent took up another paper.

"Report on Mr. Jeliffe's case. Attendant, James Hurst; physician, Dr.
Macdonald. Same as previous report."

Suddenly the small, narrow door on the left opened and the head female
attendant, dressed in a gray uniform with white cap and apron, entered.
She was a big, muscular-looking woman, the kind of person one might
expect to find in her particular business, a woman who looked capable of
meeting, single-handed, any emergency that might arise. Her face was
hard and unsympathetic, yet it belied her real character, for, as asylum
nurses go, she was kind to the patients under her care.

"Well, Mrs. Johnson, what is it?" exclaim