always be a few that can pay my prices better than what you specialists
ask."

Max laughed with genuine amusement.

"I dare say, if this is the way you let them pay your prices."

He held out the envelope, and the older man colored.

Very proud of Dr. Max was his brother, unselfishly proud, of his skill, of
his handsome person, of his easy good manners; very humble, too, of his own
knowledge and experience. If he ever suspected any lack of finer fiber in
Max, he put the thought away. Probably he was too rigid himself. Max was
young, a hard worker. He had a right to play hard.

He prepared his black bag for the day's calls--stethoscope, thermometer,
eye-cup, bandages, case of small vials, a lump of absorbent cotton in a not
over-fresh towel; in the bottom, a heterogeneous collection of instruments,
a roll of adhesive plaster, a bottle or two of sugar-milk tablets for the
children, a dog collar that had belonged to a dead collie, and had put in
the bag in some curious fashion and there remained.

He prepared the bag a little nervously, while Max ate. He felt that modern
methods and the best usage might not have approved of the bag. On his way
out he paused at the dining-room door.

"Are you going to the hospital?"

"Operating at four--wish you could come in."