young lady's identity. The feeling that was uppermost was shame that I
had not even, once thought of asking the Doctor about her.

"I should, never have recognized you," I said. She replied with, a
smile, and the Doctor relieved the situation by cheerfully crying out
"Dinner!" and leading the way to the table.

"Now, Jones," said the Doctor, "you are expected to eat; you have had
nothing since yesterday afternoon, when you choked yourself while
bandaging--"

"What do you know about that?" I asked.

"You talked about it in your sleep last night on the road. As for Lydia
and me, we have had our breakfast and our luncheon, and you must not
expect us to eat like a starving fantassin. Fall to, my boy. I know that
you have eaten nothing to-day."

There were fruit, bread and butter, lettuce, rice, and coffee. I did not
wonder at the absence of meat; I remembered some of the talks of my
friend. The Doctor and his daughter seemed to eat merely for the purpose
of keeping me in countenance.

"Lydia, would you have known Mr. Berwick?"

"Why, of course, Father; I should have known him anywhere; it is not
four years since we saw him."

These four years had made a great change in Miss Khayme. I had left her
a girl in the awkward period of a girl's life; now she was a woman of