The newcomer was a young man--one would have guessed that the ink was
scarcely dry on his diploma. He had a determined mouth, a square chin,
kind eyes, and the buoyant youthful courage that, by itself, carries one
far upon any chosen path.

He smiled at Allison and Allison smiled back at him, in friendly
fashion. "Now," said the young man, "let's see."

His big fingers were astonishingly gentle, they worked with marvellous
dexterity, and, for the first time, the dreaded examination was almost
painless. He asked innumerable questions both of Allison and the nurse,
and wanted to know who had been there previously.

The nurse had kept no record, but she knew some of the men, and
mentioned their names--names to conjure with in the professional world.
Even the two great Germans had said it was of no use.

The young man wrinkled his brows in deep thought. "What have you been
using?" he inquired, of the nurse.

"Everything. Come here."

She led him into the next room, where a formidable array of bottles and
boxes almost covered a large table. He looked them all over, carefully,
scrutinising the names on the druggist's labels, sniffing here and
there, occasionally holding some one bottle to the light, and finally,
out of sheer youthful curiosity, counting them.

Then he laughed--a cheery, hearty laugh that woke long-sleeping echoes
in the old house and made Allison smile, in the next room. "It seems,"