spoke to her over the heads of a dozen nurses.     

       “That patient's address that I had forgotten, Miss Harrison, is the corner of the Park and Ellington Avenue.”      

       “Thank you.”      

       She played the game well, was quite calm. He admired her coolness. Certainly she was pretty, and certainly, too, she was interested in him. The hurt to his pride of a few nights before was healed. He went whistling into the wardrobe-room. As he turned he caught the interne's eye, and there passed between them a glance of complete comprehension. The interne grinned.     

       The room was not empty. His brother was there, listening to the comments of O'Hara, his friendly rival.     

       “Good work, boy!” said O'Hara, and clapped a hairy hand on his shoulder.       “That last case was a wonder. I'm proud of you, and your brother here is indecently exalted. It was the Edwardes method, wasn't it? I saw it done at his clinic in New York.”      

       “Glad you liked it. Yes. Edwardes was a pal at mine in Berlin. A great       surgeon, too, poor old chap!”      

       “There aren't three men in the country with the nerve and the hand for it.”      

       O'Hara went out, glowing with his own magnanimity. Deep in his heart was a gnawing of envy—not for himself, but for his work. These young fellows with no family ties, who could run over to Europe and bring back anything new that was worth while, they had it all over the older men. Not that he would have changed things. God forbid!     

       Dr. Ed stood by and waited while his brother got into his street clothes. He was rather silent. There were many times when he wished that their mother could have lived to see how he had carried out his promise to “make a man of Max.” This was one of them. Not that he took any credit for Max's brilliant career—but he would have liked her to know that things were going well. He had a picture of her over his office desk. Sometimes he wondered what she would think of his own untidy methods compared with Max's extravagant order—of the bag, for instance, with the dog's collar in it, and other things. On these occasions he always determined to clear out the bag.     

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