ween them. An interne presented an
order-book; moppers had come in and waited to clean the tiled floor.
There seemed no chance for Wilson to speak to Miss Harrison again.

But he was clever with the guile of the pursuing male. Eyes of all on
him, he turned at the door of the wardrobe-room, where he would exchange
his white garments for street clothing, and 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.

"I guess I'll