Dr. Stanley would not permit his sister to be inconvenienced in any way by this addition to their family, but took it upon himself to minister to the sufferer’s requirements, which he did with all the ease and skill of a trained nurse.

During the first day or two the young man preserved a sullen silence; but as his attendant manifested only good will and invariably treated him with the utmost courtesy and kindness, his reserve gradually wore away and he became more communicative.

“This has proved a pretty unlucky trip for me,” he observed, on the third morning after the accident, and thus introducing a subject which Dr. Stanley had studiously avoided.

“Possibly; but you are coming on all right.  You have had no fever, no pain,” the physician replied.

“No, and I don’t understand that part of it at all,” remarked his patient, thoughtfully.  “I have always supposed it was a terrible experience to have a broken bone set.”

“Well, Willard, I have a confession to make to you about that,” his companion returned; “you were in such a state of collapse Tuesday night I felt you were unfit to decide any question for yourself, and, as I had no anaesthetics at hand, I asked Mrs. Minturn to give you a Christian Science treatment while I performed my duties, and since then I have been trying to work, under her direction, to keep the claims of inflammation and fever from manifesting themselves.”

“Christian Science!” repeated the patient, with a short laugh.  “Well, I’ve heard that it would do great things, but I never took any stock in it; it seemed like so much twaddle to me.  You are sure you’re not guying me, doctor?”

“Indeed, I am not; you can rely on what I have told you.”

“All right; the method doesn’t signify, so long as I was spared the pain.”

“Then, are you willing to keep on under the same treatment?” inquired his companion.

“I’ll be blamed!  I believe you’re turning Scientist yourself!” exclaimed Willard, with a broad grin.  “But it makes no difference to me what you do, so I get results.  You’re a first-class doctor, and would be sure to know if anything was going wrong.  But—­ confound the luck!—­I don’t want to be laid up here for three months,” he concluded, impatiently.

“There will be no need of that.  I think by the end of another week you can be put upon a Pullman and go home,” was the encouraging response.

“Home!” was the bitter retort.  “You know I can’t go there, Stanley.”

“Well, you are going to be well taken care of, anyway.  I shall attend to that,” said Dr. Stanley, kindly.

“Doc, you’re O. K. You’ve been mighty good to me, first and last,” the patient observed, and flushing with sudden feeling.  “I suppose you know what brought me down here,” he added, after a moment of silence.

“Yes, I know something about it.  You followed Miss Minot here.”

“Why shouldn’t I follow her?” was the hot reply.  “She had promised to marry me.”