dour.

"Yes, of course," she cried.

"And why 'of course'?" inquired the doctor.

"Why? Because a great friend of mine is to receive his degree and his
gold medal."

"And who is that, pray?"

"Mr. Boyle."

"Oh, you know him? Clever chap, they say. Can't say I know him. Have
seen him a few times in the hospital with Trent. Struck me as rather
crude. From the country, some place, isn't he?"

"Yes," replied Iola, with ever so slight a hesitation, "he is from the
country, where I met him five--yes, it is actually five--years ago. So
you see he is quite an old friend. And as for being crude, I think
you can hardly call him that. Of course, he is not one of society's
darlings, a patron of art, and a rising member of his profession as
yet"--this with a little bow to her visitor--"but some day he will be
great. And, besides, he is very nice."

"Of that I have no doubt," said the doctor, "seeing he is a friend of
yours. But how are you going? Some friends of mine are to be there and
will be glad to call for you." The doctor could hardly prevent a tone of
condescension, almost of patronage, in his voice.

"You are very kind," said Iola, with just enough reserve in her manner
to make the doctor conscious of his tone, "but I am going with friends."

"Friends?" inquired the doctor. "And who, may I ask?" There was an
almost rude familiarity in his tone, but Iola only smiled at him the
more sweetly.

"Oh, very dear friends, and very old friends, and friends of Mr. Boyle.
In fact, his brother, a theological student, and a Miss Robertson. I
think you have met her. She is a nurse in the General Hospital."

"Nurse Robertson?" said Bulling. "Oh, yes, I know her. Pretty much of a
saint, isn't she?"

"A saint?" cried Iola, for the first time throwing energy into her
voice. "Yes, a saint. But the best and sweetest and kindest and jolliest
girl I know."

"I should hardly have called her jolly," said the doctor, with an air of
dismissing her.

"Oh, she is!" cried Iola, enthusiastically, her large eyes glowing eager
enthusiasm. "You ought to have seen her at home. Why, at sixteen years
she took charge of her father's manse and the children in the most
wonderful way. Looked after me, too."

"Poor girl!" murmured the doctor. "She had a handful, sure enough."

"Yes, you may say so. Then her father went on a trip to the old country,
and, to the surprise of everybody, brought back a new wife."

"And put the girl's nose out of