er son to look after
the bike till I patch you up, and then if you can't manage to ride home
we'll think of some other arrangement."

Iris rose, gladly, from her lowly seat.

"That's splendid, Dr. Anstice. I'm sure I can ride home if you will stop
this stupid bleeding."

"Good." He liked her pluck. "Jump into my car and we'll go and interview
Mrs. Treble."

"What an odd name!"

"Yes, isn't it? And by a strange coincidence her maiden name was Bass!"

Iris laughed, and a little colour came into her pale cheeks as they sped
swiftly round the corner in search of the oddly-named lady's abode.

Mrs. Treble, who was engaged in hanging out the weekly washing in the
small garden, was all sympathy at the sight of the young lady's wounded
wrist, and invited them into the parlour and provided the basin of water
and other accessories for which Anstice asked with a cheerful bustle
which took no account of any trouble involved.

When she had dispatched her son, an overgrown lad who had just left
school, to keep watch over the motor-cycle, Mrs. Treble requested the
doctor's leave to continue her work; and nothing loth, Anstice shut the
door upon her and gave his attention to his pale patient.

He had brought in a small leather case from his car, and after cleansing
the wound he selected a needle and some fine wire in order to put in the
necessary stitches, watched the while by a pair of interested, if
somewhat apprehensive eyes.

"I won't hurt you, Miss Wayne." Somehow he felt oddly reluctant to
inflict even a pinprick of pain on this particular patient. "I'm awfully
sorry, but I'm afraid I really must put in a couple of stitches. I'll be
as gentle as I can."

Iris laughed, rather shamefacedly.

"You think I am a coward," she said, "and you're quite right. I openly
confess I dread bearing pain, probably because I've never known anything
worse than toothache in my life!"

"Toothache can be the very--er--deuce," he said. "I once had it myself,
and ever since then I've had the liveliest sympathy for any poor
victim!"

"But there are so many other pains, so much worse, that it seems absurd
to talk of mere toothache as a real pain," she objected, and Anstice
laughed.

"Quite so, but you must remember that the other 'real pains' have
alleviations which are denied to mere toothache. One's friends do at
least take the other things seriously, and offer sympathy as freely as
more potent remedies; while the sight of a swollen