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Rh "Fried perch would be pretty good!"

"He must be about half-starved, poor fellow!" observed Will. "Doctor, he acts all right, only desperately hungry. Maybe a good square meal will fix him out all right?"

The doctor moved towards the door, and beckoned Ralph there.

"Fairbanks," he said, "this is a serious matter—no, no, I don't mean the fact that the baseball did the damage," he explained hurriedly, as he saw Ralph's face grow pale and troubled. "That was an accident, and something you could not foresee. I mean that this poor fellow is, for the present at least, helpless as a child."

"Doctor," quavered Ralph, "you don't mean his mind is gone."

"I fear it is."

"Oh, don't say that! don't say that!" pleaded Ralph, falling against the door post and covering his face with his hands.

He was genuinely distressed. All the brightness of his good luck and prospects seemed dashed out. He could not divest his mind of a certain responsibility for the condition of the poor fellow on the cot, whose usefulness in life had been cut short by an accidental "lost ball."

"Don't be overcome—it isn't like you, Fairbanks," chided the doctor gently. "I know you