had intended to go back to the ward and discuss a plan he had, but
he was very morose those days and really not a companionable person.
He stumped back to his room and resolutely went to bed.

There he lay for a long time looking at the ceiling, and saying, out
of his misery, things not necessary to repeat.

So Twenty-two went to bed and sulked, refusing supper, and having
the word "Vicious" marked on his record by the nurse, who hoped he
would see it some time. And Jane Brown went and sat beside a
strangely silent Johnny, and worried. And the Senior Surgical
Interne went down to the pharmacy and thereby altered a number of
things.

The pharmacy clerk had been shaving--his own bedroom was dark--and
he saw the Senior Surgical Interne in the little mirror hung on the
window frame.

"Hello," he said, over the soap. "Shut the door."

The Senior Surgical Interne shut the door, and then sniffed. "Smells
like a bar-room," he commented.

The pharmacy clerk shaved the left angle of his jaw, and then turned
around.

"Little experiment of mine," he explained. "Simple syrup, grain
alcohol, a dash of cochineal for colouring, and some flavouring
extract. It's an imitation cordial. Try it."