Intermittently from the front seat the Senior Surgeon's wooden face
relaxed to the extent of a grim mouth twisting distractedly sideways in
one furious bellow.

"Will--you--stop--your--_noise_--and--go--back--to--your--seat!"

Nothing else happened at all until at last, out of unbroken stretches of
winter-staled stubble, a high, formal hemlock hedge and a neat, pebbled
driveway proclaimed the Senior Surgeon's ultimate destination.

Cautiously now, with an almost tender skill, the big car circled a tiny,
venturesome clump of highway violets and crept through a prancing,
leaping fluff of yellow collie dogs to the door of the big stone house.

Instantly from inestimable resources a liveried serving man appeared to
help the Surgeon from his car; another, to take the Surgeon's coat;
another, to carry his bag.

Lingering for an instant to stretch his muscles and shake his great
shoulders, the Senior Surgeon breathed into his cramped lungs a friendly
impulse as well as a scent of budding cherry trees.

"You may come in with me, if you want to, Miss Malgregor." he conceded.
"It's an extraordinary case. You will hardly see another one like it."
Palpably he lowered his already almost indistinguishable voice. "The boy
is young," he confided, "about your age, I should guess, a college
foot-ball hero, the most superbly perfect specimen of young manhood it
has ever been my privilege to behold. It will be a long case. They have
two nurses already, but would like another. The work ought not to be