tolerantly. “Didn’t I give him a chance to get well? That was all he needed or wanted. And, now he’s well, he’ll go about his business.”

“Faith,” and Hennessy closed a suggestive eye, “that depends on what he takes to be his business. In my young days the choosin’ an’ courtin’ of a wife was the big part of a man’s business. Now if he comes round askin’ my opinion—”

“Tell him, Hennessy”—and Sheila fixed[Pg 45] him firmly with a glance—“that the sanitarium does not encourage its cured patients to hang about bothering its nurses. It is apt to make trouble for the nurses. Understand?”

[Pg 45]

Again Hennessy closed one eye; then he laughed. “When ye talk of devils ye’re sure to smell brimstone. There comes Mr. Brooks now, an’ he has his head back like a dog trailin’ the wind.”

The girl turned and followed Hennessy’s jerking thumb with her eyes. Across the pine grove, coming toward them, was a young man above medium height, square-shouldered and erect. There was nothing startlingly handsome nor remarkable about his appearance; he was just nice, strong, clean-looking. He waved to the two by the rest-house.

“And do ye mind his looks when he came!” Hennessy’s tone denoted wonder and admiration.

“A human wreck—haunted at that.” There was a good deal more than mere professional interest in Sheila’s tone; there was pride and something else. It was past Hennessy’s perceptive powers to define what, but[Pg 46] he noticed it, nevertheless, and looked sharply up at the girl.

[Pg 46]

“For the love o’ Mike, Miss Leerie! Why can’t ye stop ticketin’ each man as a case an’ begin thinkin’ about them human-like? Ye might begin practisin’ wi’ Mr. Brooks.”

The line of Sheila’s lips became fixed; the chin that could look so demure, the eyes that could look so soft and gentle, both backed up the lips in an expression of inscrutable hardness.

“In the name of your patron saint, Hennessy, what have you said to Miss Leerie to turn her into that sphinx again?” The voice of Peter Brooks was as nice as his appearance.

Hennessy looked foolish. “I was tellin’ her, then,” he moistened his lips to allow a safer emigration of words—“I was tellin’ her—that the gray swan had the rheumatism in his left leg, an’ I was askin’ her, did she think Doctor Willum would 

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