'll make it a daily, Helen
said, not that I should call you Helen--I mean Miss--Miss--Fisbee--no,
Sherwood--but I've always thought Helen was the prettiest name in the
world--you'll forgive me?--And please tell Parker there's no more
copy, and won't be--I wouldn't grind out another stick to save
his immortal--yes, yes, a daily--she said-ah, I never made a good
trade--no--they can't come seven miles--but I'll finish _you_, Skillett,
first; I know _you_! I know nearly all of you! Now let's sing 'Annie
Lisle.'" He lifted his hand as if to beat the time for a chorus.

"Oh, John, John!" cried Tom Meredith, and sobbed outright. "My boy--my
boy--old friend----" The cry of the classmate was like that of a mother,
for it was his old idol and hero who lay helpless and broken before him.

The brougham lamps and the apathetic sparks of the cab gleamed in front
of the hospital till daylight. Two other pairs of lamps joined them
in the earliest of the small hours, these subjoined to two deep-hooded
phaetons, from each of which quickly descended a gentleman with a beard,
an air of eminence, and a small, ominous black box. The air of eminence
was justified by the haste with which Meredith had sent for them, and by
their wide repute. They arrived almost simultaneously, and hastily shook
hands as they made their way to the ward down the long hall and up the
narrow corridor. They had a short conversation with Gay and a word
with the nurse, then turned the others out of the room by a practiced
innuendo of manner. They stayed a long time in the room without opening
the door. Meredith paced the hall alone, sometimes stopping to speak
to Warren Smith; but the two officials of peace sat together in dumb
consternation and astonishment. The sleepy young man relaxed himself
resignedly upon a bench in the hall had returned to the dormance from
which he had been roused. The big hospital was very still. Now and then
a nurse went through the hall, carrying something, and sometimes a
neat young physician passed cheerfully along, looking as if he had many
patients who were well enough to testify to his skill, but sick enough
to pay for it. Outside, through the open front doors, the crickets
chirped.

Meredith went out on the steps, and breathed the cool night air. A
slender taint of drugs hung everywhere about the building, and the
almost imperceptible permeation sickened him; it was deadly, he thought,
and imbued with a hideous portent of suffer