----" with a tremour in his voice, "I've no need to be particular
about the names you call me. I ought to be used to them by this time."

"Speak out," thundered the Judge, "and tell me the whole disgraceful
truth!"

"It won't take long," said Tom; "I told it when I said I'd made up my
mind I couldn't stand it. I've been walking the hospitals and attending
the clinics for the last three months, and I've had a chance to see what
my life would be if I went through. I've seen things to make a man
tremble when they came back to him in the dead of night--agony and
horror--women and children! Good Lord! I can't tell you. De Courcy could,
but I can't. I'd rather be in hell than live such a life day after day. I
tried to stand up against it at first. I thought I might get used to it,
but I haven't the nerve--or something was wrong. It got worse and worse,
until I used to start up out of my sleep in a cold sweat, hearing screams
and groans and prayers. That was the worst of all--their prayers to us to
help them and not to hurt them. Four days ago a child was brought in--a
child four or five years old. There was an operation to be performed, and
I was the man chosen to hold it still. Its mother was sent out of the
room. My God! how it screamed when it saw her go and knew it was to be
left to us. They told me to hold it because I was the strongest, and--and
I put my hands on it. I'm a big fellow to look at, and I suppose it knew
there was no help for it when I came near. It turned as white as death
and looked up at me with the tears streaming down its face. Before the
operation was half over it hadn't the strength left to scream or
struggle, and it lay and looked at me and moaned. I should have given up
the job, but somehow I couldn't make up my mind to--to leave it. When it
was all done, I gave it back to its mother and went to my rooms. I turned
sick on the way and had to sit down to rest. I swore then I'd let the
thing drop, and I bought my ticket and came back. I'm not the man for the
work. Better men may do it--perhaps it takes better men. I'm not up to
it." And his shaken voice broke as he hung his great head.

A deadly calm settled upon the Judge. He pointed to the door.

"Go home to your mother, sir," he said, "I've done with you. Go and stay
with the women. That's the place for you."

"He's a coward as well as a fool," he said afterwards in the bosom of his
family; "a white-livered fool who hasn't the nerve to look at a