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 would continue the same régime with even more exactitude and then she would look again, and he registered a vow as he put on his clothing that she should find him better.

As he arranged the dressings on his wounded side, he looked closely at the pad he had removed, and then suddenly Jamie found himself doing what the little person would have called pirouetting. There was barely a faint pinkish seeping. Hehad felt for days past that the stains were not so large and not so angry. That morning there was ocular evidence that could not be done away with. Too plain forwords to dispute it, lay the proof before him that Margaret had been right. Before Jamie realized fully what he was doing, he found that he was dancing around the bedroom with much less reserve and more enthusiasm than the little Scout had danced down the garden walk. Hewas actually laughing to himself as he drew on his clothing, and when he heard Margaret Cameron in the kitchen with his breakfast, he opened the door and called to her, “Lady of Scotland!”

His voice rang out with a tone Margaret Cameron had not previously noticed.

“Step this way,” said Jamie. “Yesterday you had Exhibit Number One. This morning cast your optics on Exhibit Number Two !” And Jamie picked up the pad from a basket that wasbeing filled for the incinerator and pulled it apart that Margaret Cameron might see.

“A month ago,” said Jamie, “those pads were pretty thoroughly soaked with brilliant colour. This one I just removed is barely damp and the faintest pink. Oh,