his brush. Then he saw him pinch
up the skin above the tumour with his left hand. At the sight his
nerves, which had already been tried once or twice that day, gave way
utterly. His head swain round, and he felt that in another instant he
might faint. He dared not look at the patient. He dug his thumbs into
his ears lest some scream should come to haunt him, and he fixed his
eyes rigidly upon the wooden ledge in front of him. One glance, one
cry, would, he knew, break down the shred of self-possession which he
still retained. He tried to think of cricket, of green fields and
rippling water, of his sisters at home--of anything rather than of what
was going on so near him.

And yet somehow, even with his ears stopped up, sounds seemed to
penetrate to him and to carry their own tale. He heard, or thought
that he heard, the long hissing of the carbolic engine. Then he was
conscious of some movement among the dressers. Were there groans, too,
breaking in upon him, and some other sound, some fluid sound, which was
more dreadfully suggestive still? His mind would keep building up
every step of the operation, and fancy made it more ghastly than fact
could have been. His nerves tingled and quivered. Minute by minute
the giddiness grew more marked, the numb, sickly feeling at his heart
more distressing. And then suddenly, with a groan, his head pitching
forward, and his brow cracking sharply upon the narrow wooden shelf in
front of him, he lay in a dead faint.

When he came to himself, he was lying in the empty theatre, with his
collar and shirt undone. The third year's man was dabbing a wet sponge
over his face, and a couple of grinning dressers were looking on.

"All right," cried the novice, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "I'm
sorry to have made an ass of myself."

"Well, so I should think," said his companion.

"What on earth did you faint about?"

"I couldn't help it. It was that operation."

"What operation?"

"Why, that cancer."

There was a pause, and then the three students burst out laughing.
"Why, you juggins!" cried the senior man, "there never was an operation
at all! They found the patient didn't stand the chloroform well, and
so the whole thing was off. Archer has been giving us one of his racy
lectures, and you fainted just in the middle of his favourite story."

A STRAGGLER OF '15.

It was a dull October morning, and heavy, rolling fog-wreaths lay low
over the wet grey