"

"There were no especially bad symptoms when you left, beyond the state
of partial coma?"

"No. Her respiration had become easy, and she presented the appearance
of one in a quiet sleep."

"Nature is doing all for her that can be done," returned Dr. Hillhouse.
"I will see her as early as practicable. It's unfortunate that we have
these two cases on our hands just at this time, and most unfortunate of
all that I should have been compelled to go out so early this morning.
That doesn't look right."

And the doctor held up his hand, which showed a nervous unsteadiness.

"It will pass off after you have taken breakfast."

"I hope so. Confound these parties! I should not have gone last night,
and if I'd given the matter due consideration would have remained at
home."

"Why so?"

"You know what that means as well as I do;" and Dr. Hillhouse held up
his tremulous hand again. "We can't take wine freely late at night and
have our nerves in good order next morning. A life may depend on a
steady hand to-day."

"It will all pass off at breakfast-time. Your good cup of coffee will
make everything all right."

"Perhaps yea, perhaps nay," was answered. "I forgot myself last night,
and accepted too many wine compliments. It was first this one and then
that one, until, strong as my head is, I got more into it than should
have gone there. We are apt to forget ourselves on these occasions. If
I had only taken a glass or two, it would have made little difference.
But my system was stimulated beyond its wont, and, I fear, will not be
in the right tone to-day."

"You will have to bring it up, then, doctor," said the assistant. "To
touch that work with an unsteady hand might be death."

"A glass or two of wine will do it; but when I operate, I always prefer
to have my head clear. Stimulated nerves are not to be depended upon,
and the brain that has wine in it is never a sure guide. A surgeon must
see at the point of his instrument; and if there be a mote or any
obscurity in his mental vision, his hand, instead of working a cure,
may bring disaster."

"You operate at twelve?"

"Yes."

"You will be all right enough by that time; but it will not do to visit
many patients. I am sorry about this case of child-bed fever; but I
will see it again immediately after breakfast, and report."

While they were still talking the bell rang violently, and in a few
moments Mr. Ridley came dashing into the office. His face wore a look
of