mon a name to please you? Oh, what a
fine house! Are we really going in? Will they let _me_ in? How stupid
I am! I forgot my beautiful clothes. You won't tell them, will you, if
they take me for a lady?"

The carriage had stopped at the great surgeon's house: the waiting-room
was full of patients. Some of them were trying to read the books and
newspapers on the table; and some of them were looking at each other,
not only without the slightest sympathy, but occasionally even with
downright distrust and dislike. Amelius took up a newspaper, and gave
Sally an illustrated book to amuse her, while they waited to see the
Surgeon in their turn.

Two long hours passed, before the servant summoned Amelius to the
consulting-room. Sally was wearily asleep in her chair. He left her
undisturbed, having questions to put relating to the imperfectly
developed state of her mind, which could not be asked in her presence.
The surgeon listened, with no ordinary interest, to the young stranger's
simple and straightforward narrative of what had happened on the
previous night. "You are very unlike other young men," he said; "may I
ask how you have been brought up?" The reply surprised him. "This opens
quite a new view of Socialism," he said. "I thought your conduct highly
imprudent at first--it seems to be the natural result of your teaching
now. Let me see what I can do to help you."

He was very grave and very gentle, when Sally was presented to him.
His opinion of the injury to her bosom relieved the anxiety of Amelius:
there might be pain for some little time to come, but there were no
serious consequences to fear. Having written his prescription, and
having put several questions to Sally, the surgeon sent her back, with
marked kindness of manner, to wait for Amelius in the patients' room.

"I have young daughters of my own," he said, when the door was closed;
"and I cannot but feel for that unhappy creature, when I contrast her
life with theirs. So far as I can see it, the natural growth of her
senses--her higher and her lower senses alike--has been stunted, like
the natural growth of her body, by starvation, terror, exposure to
cold, and other influences inherent in the life that she has led. With
nourishing food, pure air, and above all kind and careful treatment,
I see no reason, at her age, why she should not develop into an
intelligent and healthy young woman. Pardon me if I venture on giving
you a word of advice. At your time o