na Gates's hand and waited. That
the letter had come was enough. He lay back in anticipatory joy, and
let himself be talked over, and bathrobed, and his hair parted Austrian
fashion and turned up over a finger, which is very Austrian indeed.
He liked Harmony. The girl caught his eyes on her more than once. He
interrupted the speech once to ask her just what part of the robe she
had made, and whether she had made the tassel. When she admitted the
tassel, his admiration became mixed with respect.

It was a bright day, for a marvel. Sunlight came through the barred
window behind Jimmy's bed, and brought into dazzling radiance the pink
bathrobe, and Harmony's eyes, and fat Nurse Elisabet's white apron. It
lay on the bedspread in great squares, outlined by the shadows of the
window bars. Now and then the sentry, pacing outside, would advance as
far as Jimmy's window, and a warlike silhouette of military cap and
the upper end of a carbine would appear on the coverlet. These events,
however, were rare, the sentry preferring the shelter of the gateway and
the odor of boiling onions from the lodge just inside.

The Dozent retired to his room for the second breakfast; the nurses went
about the business of the ward; Dr. Anna Gates drew a hairpin from her
hair and made a great show of opening the many times opened envelope.

"The letter at last!" she said. "Shall I read it or will you?"

"You read it. It takes me so long. I'll read it all day, after you are
gone. I always do."

Anna Gates read the letter. She read aloud poor Peter's first halting
lines, when he was struggling against sleep and cold. They were mainly
an apology for the delay. Then forgetting discomfort in the joy of
creation, he became more comfortable. The account of the near-accident
was wonderfully graphic; the description of the chamois was fervid, if
not accurate. But consternation came with the end.

The letter apparently finished, there was yet another sheet. The doctor
read on.

"For Heaven's sake," said Peter's frantic postscript, "find out how much
a medium-sized chamois--"

Dr. Gates stopped "--ought to weigh," was the rest of it, "and fix it
right in the letter. The kid's too smart to be fooled and I never saw a
chamois outside of a drug store. They have horns, haven't they?"

"That's funny!" said Jimmy Conway.

"That was one of my papers slipped in by mistake," remarked Dr. Gates,
with dignity, and flashing a wild appeal for help to Harmony.