to a hospital; that he had lately returned to England, on his way
to Edinburgh, to continue his studies; that he had been taken ill
on the journey; and that he had stopped to rest and recover
himself at Doncaster. He did not add a word about his name, or
who he was, and of course I did not question him on the subject.
All I inquired when he ceased speaking was what branch of the
profession he intended to follow.

"Any branch," he said, bitterly, "which will put bread into the
mouth of a poor man."

At this, Arthur, who had been hitherto watching him in silent
curiosity, burst out impetuously in his usual good-humored way:

"My dear fellow" (everybody was "my dear fellow" with Arthur),
"now you have come to life again, don't begin by being
down-hearted about your prospects. I'll answer for it I can help
you to some capital thing in the medical line, or, if I can't, I
know my father can."

The medical student looked at him steadily.

"Thank you," he said, coldly; then added, "May I ask who your
father is?"

"He's well enough known all about this part of the country,"
replied Arthur. "He is a great manufacturer, and his name is
Holliday."

My hand was on the man's wrist during this brief conversation.