ly was sitting on the verandah of Miss Whimple's home,
going over again to herself all the memories of her first meeting with
Lucien. She had been three months in the hospital when William had
brought him to her, and was sitting up in bed dressing dolls for a
Christmas-tree for the infant patients in the institution. William
came to the bedside with his usual easy air. Lucien hung back a
little, shy, embarrassed, and blushing. William took hold of his
sleeve and dragged him forward. "Allow me, Miss Sally Miller," he
said, with a smile, "to introduce to you Lucien Torrance--Lucien
Wellington Torrance, to give him his full name. Mister Torrance--Miss
Miller."

They shook hands gravely, and eyed each other in silence.

"This," went on William, in a more serious tone, "this, Sally, is the
chap I used to think was a mutt--honest--until I woke up one day and
found that I was it. I was the M-U-T-T," he spelled out the word, "and
Lucien had me beaten a mile for brains and bravery."

Lucien was blushing furiously now. "Don't," he pleaded.

William ignored the remark, and smiling, again proceeded, "Honest,
Sally, he's a pippin, is Lucien. Why, first thing we know he'll be the
boss architect of Canada, and the real thing in inventions too. He's
always trying his hand at something; and he'll come out ahead, will
Lucien."

Sally murmured a hope that he would.

"Oh, you needn't be afraid to speak up, Sally," said William, gaily.
"You can't phase Lucien. He'll listen to you until the cows come
home--he's a good listener, and," he laid one arm affectionately on
Lucien's shoulder, "he's a good doer, too, is my friend Lucien."

Lucien came frequently after that, and often alone. He never had much
to say, and yet Sally felt after his visits as though he had said a
great deal. He thought much of her, and the first practical outcome of
his thinking was the invention of an ingenious little table that could
be mounted on the bed, and moved easily by the patient, so that she
could use it as a book support, or a table on which to lay the trifles
she made for the little children. William saw it the first day Sally
used it, questioned her closely, took the table back to Lucien, and
gave him no rest until there had been a consultation with Whimple and
the first steps had been taken toward patenting the invention. It is
in use by every hospital almost in the world now, but few recall that a
boy then barely seventeen years of