get things going
pleasantly. Spoil a poor man's prospects of dying cheerful! Haven't you
any heart, man? And you, ma'am?" this to the superintendent of nurses. "By
the Lord Harry! you're a woman--you ought to have a little sympathy!" The
aggressiveness died out of the voice, and it took on the old wail Sheila
had first heard.

"But you forget my professional responsibility in the matter--my
principles as an honorable member of my profession. I cannot allow a
patient of mine wilfully to endanger his life--even shorten it. You must
understand that, Mr. Brandle."

A look of amused toleration spread over the rubicund face. "Bless your
heart, sonny, you're not allowing me to shorten it one minute. The boss
and I are prolonging it first-rate. Shouldn't wonder if it would get to be
so pleasant having her around I'd be working over union hours and
forgetting to quit at all. I'm old enough to be your granddaddy, so take a
bit of advice from me. When you can't cure a patient, let 'em die their
own way. Now run along, sonny. Good morning, ma'am." And then to Sheila:
"Get back to that locked door, the three bullet-holes, and the blood patch
on the floor. I've got to know what's on the other side before I touch one
mouthful of that finnan haddie you promised me for breakfast."

After that Old King Cole had his way. The doctors visited him as a matter
of form, and Sheila improvised a chart, for he would not stand for having
temperatures taken or pulses counted. "Cut it out, boss, cut it all out.
We're just going to have a good time, you and me." And he smiled
seraphically as he drummed on the spread:

"Old King Cole--diddy-dum-diddy-dum,
Was a merry old soul--diddy-dum-diddy-dum."

On the second day Sheila introduced Peter Brooks into the
"Keeping-On-Going Syndicate," as the mammoth man termed their temporary
partnership. Sheila had to take some hours off duty, and as the coal
magnate absolutely refused to let another nurse cross his threshold, Peter
seemed to be the only practical solution. She knew the two men would get
on admirably. Peter could be counted on to understand and meet any
emergency that might arise, while Old King Cole would be kept content. And
Sheila was right.

"Say, we hit it off first-rate--ran together as smooth as a parcel o'
greased tubs," the magnate confided to Sheila when she returned. "He told
me a whole lot about you--what you did for him--and the nickname they'd
given you--'Leerie.' I like th