les would all come straight.

One day he was startled out of a stupor by the sound of a querulous old
voice saying:

"I guess if he could get out of bed to come across the city to me, I can
come across the hall to him. Wheel me closer!"

Quin was drifting off again, when a hand gripped his wrist.

"Open your eyes, boy! Look at me. Do you know who this is?"

He lifted his heavy lids, and wondered dully what Madam was doing at the
camp hospital.

"Put the blinds up," she commanded to some one back of her. "Let him see
the wall-paper, the furniture. Move that fool screen away."

For the first time, Quin brought his confused attention to bear on his
surroundings, and even glanced at the space over the mantel to see if a
certain picture was at its old place.

"You are in my house," said Madam, with a finality that was not to be
disputed. "Do you remember the first time you came here?"

He shook his head.

"Yes, you do. I fell down the steps and broke my leg, and you came in off
the street to tie me up with an umbrella and the best table napkins. What
are you smiling about?"

"Smelling salts," Quin murmured, as if to himself.

"You don't need any smelling salts!" cried Madam, missing his allusion.
"All you need is to rouse yourself and put your mind on what I am saying.
Do you remember living in this house?"

He could not truthfully say that he did, though familiar objects and
sounds seemed to be all around him.

"Well, I'll make you," said Madam, nothing daunted. "You stayed in this
very room for three months to keep the burglars from stealing Isobel and
Enid, and every night you walked me up and down the hall on my crutches."

She paused and looked at him expectantly; but things were still a blur to
him.

"You surely remember the Easter party?" she persisted. "If you can forget
the way your shirt kept popping open that night, and the way your jaw
swelled up, it's more than I can!"

Quin winced. Even concussion of the brain had failed to deaden the memory
of that awful night.

"I sort of remember," he admitted.

"Good! That will do for to-day. As for the rest, I'll tell you what
happened. You came here one night two weeks ago, when everybody had me
dead and buried, and you deviled me into having an operation that saved
my life. You stood right by me while they did it. Then you collapsed and
knocked your head on the banister, and, as if that wasn't enough,
developed pneumonia on top of it. Now all you'