"I've brought you some flowers and goodies," said Miss Durant. "I don't
know how much of it will be good for him," she went on to the doctor,
apologetically, "but I hope some will do." Putting the flowers on the bed,
from the basket she produced in succession two bottles of port, a mould of
wine jelly, a jar of orange marmalade, a box of wafers, and a dish of
grapes, apples, and bananas.

"Gee! Won't Ise have a hell of a gorge!" joyfully burst out the invalid.

"We'll see about that," remarked Dr. Armstrong, smiling. "He can have all
the other things you've brought, in reason, Miss Durant, except the wine.
That must wait till we see how much fever he develops to-day,"

"He is doing well?"

"So far, yes."

"That is a great relief to me. And, Dr. Armstrong, in returning your loan
to me, will you let me say once again how grateful I am to you for all
your kindness, for which I thanked you so inadequately last night? I
deserved all that came to me, and can only wonder how you ever resisted
saying, 'I told you so.'"

"I have been too often wrong in my own diagnosing to find any satisfaction
or triumph in the mistakes of others," said the doctor, as he took the
bill the girl held out to him, and, let it be confessed, the fingers that
held it, "nor can I regret anything which gave me an opportunity to serve
you."

The speaker put an emphasis on the last word, and eyed Miss Durant in a