hroat
and plunged in.

"This has been a typical November day, dull and cold. We had fine
October weather clear into the second week of this month, but all at
once it turned cold and dull. The leaves are all off the trees--Hold
on--don't say that. She knows the leaves are all off the trees the middle of
November."

"I have it partly written."

"Oh! Well, go on, then; I'll fix it: a fact it may be necessary to
remind you of down there in South Carolina, where--Miss Mathewson, do
you suppose the leaves are on in South Carolina?"

"I really don't know, Doctor Burns. I have always lived in the North."

"So have I--bother it! Well, leave that out."

"But I've written 'a fact it may be necessary--"

"Well, finish it: a fact at may be necessary to remind you of, you have
been gone so long. Oh, hang it--that sounds flat! How can I tell how
a sentence is coming out, this way? Let that paragraph stand by
itself--we'll hasten on to something that will take the reader's mind
off our unfortunate beginning:

"You will be glad to know that Bobby Burns is well, and not only well,
but fat and hearty. He had a wrestling bout with Harold Macauley the
other day and downed him. He got a black eye, but that didn't count,
though you may not like to hear of it. He is heavier than when you saw
him--Oh, I've said that! Miss Mathewson, when you see I'm repeating
myself, hold me up."

"I can't always tell when you're going to repeat yourself," Miss
Mathewson objected.

"That's enough about Bob, anyhow. Mrs. Macauley writes her all about him
every week, only she probably didn't mention the black eye. Well, let's
start a new paragraph. When in doubt, always start a new paragraph. It
may turn out a gold mine.

"I found my work much crippled by the loss of my arm. Good Heavens, that
sounds as if I'd had it amputated! And I suppose she naturally would
infer that a man can't do as much with his arm in a sling as he can
when it's in commission. Well, let it stand. I didn't realize how much
surgery I was doing till I had to cut it all out. 'Cut it out,' that
certainly has a surgical ring. It sounds rather bragging, too, I'm
afraid. Never mind. The worst of it is to feel the muscles atrophying
from disuse and the tissues wasting, so that when it comes out of the
splints it will still have to be cured of the degeneration the splints
have--Oh, hold on, Miss Mathewson--this sounds like a paper for a
surgical journal!"

Burns, who had been walk