"Sure," returned the young man, with an infectious laugh. "A young
surgeon never has much else when he starts, nor for some time to come.
Want to sit up?"

"Why," Allison breathed, in astonishment, "I can't."

"Who said so?"

"Everybody. They all said I must lie perfectly still."

"Of course," mused the young man, aloud, "blood may move around all
right of itself, and then again, it may not. Wouldn't do any harm to
stir it up a bit and remind the red corpuscles not to loaf on the job."

The nurse came back, to say that the trunk would be up immediately.

"Good. Can I have a bunk in the next room?" Without waiting for her
answer, he requested raw eggs and milk, beaten up with a little cream
and sherry.

While Allison was drinking it, he moved a big easy chair up near the
window, opened every shutter wide, and let the hot sun stream into the
room. He expeditiously made a sling for the injured hand, slipped it
painlessly into place, put a strong arm under Allison's shoulders, and
lifted him to a sitting posture on the edge of the bed. "Now then,
forward, march! Just lean on me."

Muscles long unused trembled under the strain but finally he made the
harbour of the easy chair, gasping for breath. "Good," said the young