the past--the
dark, dark past."

At this speech intruding itself upon the short sentences of business,
there was a roar of laughter, and Phoebe Falcon turned sharply round to
look at the speaker. She stared at him; she cried "Oh!" and clasped her
hands, and colored all over. "Why, sure," said she, "I can't be mistook.
Those eyes--'tis you, doctor, isn't it?"

"Doctor?" said Staines, with a puzzled look. "Yes; I think they called
me doctor once. I'm an attendant in the hospital now."

"Dick!" cried Phoebe, in no little agitation. "Come here this minute."

"What, afore I get the horses ashore?"

"Ay, before you do another thing, or say another word. Come here, now."
So he came, and she told him to take a good look at the man. "Now," said
she, "who is that?"

"Blest if I know," said he.

"What, not know the man who saved your own life! Oh, Dick, what are your
eyes worth?"

This discourse brought the few persons within hearing into one band of
excited starers.

Dick took a good look, and said, "I'm blest if I don't, though; it is
the doctor that cut my throat."

This strange statement drew forth quite a shout of ejaculations.

"Oh, better breathe through a slit than not at all," said Dick. "Saved
my life with that cut, he did, didn't he, Pheeb?"

"That he did, Dick. Dear heart, I hardly know whether I am in my senses
or not, seeing him a-looking so blank. You try him."

Dick came forward. "Sure you remember me, sir. Dick Dale. You cut my
throat, and saved my life."

"Cut your throat! why, that would kill you."

"Not the way you done it. Well, sir, you ain't the man you was, that is
clear; but you was a good friend to me, and there's my hand."

"Thank you, Dick," said Staines, and took his hand. "I don't remember
YOU. Perhaps you are one of the past. The past is dead wall to me--a
dark dead wall," and he put his hands to his head with a look of
distress.

Everybody there now suspected the truth, and some pointed mysteriously
to their own heads.

Phoebe whispered an inquiry to the sick person.

He said a little pettishly, "All I know is, he is the kindest attendant
in the ward, and very attentive."

"Oh, then, he is in the public hospital."

"Of course he is."

The invalid, with the selfishness of his class, then begged Staines to
take him out of all this bustle down to the beach. Staines complied at
once, with the utmost meekness, and said, "Good-by, old friends; forgive
me for not remembering