But when this was done, she said to her brother, “Dick, I did not think anything on earth could take my heart off the cattle and the things we have got from home; but I can't leave this without going to the hospital about our poor dear doctor: and it is late for making a start, any way--and you mustn't forget the newspapers for Reginald--he is so fond of them--and you must contrive to have one sent out regular after this, and I'll go to the hospital.” She went, and saw the head doctor, and told him he had got an attendant there she had known in England in a very different condition, and she had come to see if there was anything she could do for him--for she felt very grateful to him, and grieved to see him so. The doctor was pleased and surprised, and put several questions. Then she gave him a clear statement of what he had done for Dick in England. “Well,” said the doctor, “I believe it is the same man; for, now you tell me this--yes, one of the nurses told me he knew more about medicine than she did. His name, if you please.” “His name, sir?” “Yes, his name. Of course you know his name. Is it Christie?” “Doctor,” said Phoebe, blushing, “I don't know what you will think of me, but I don't know his name. Laws forgive me, I never had the sense to ask it.” A shade of suspicion crossed the doctor's face. Phoebe saw it, and colored to the temples. “Oh, sir,” she cried piteously, “don't go for to think I have told you a lie! why should I? and indeed I am not of that sort, nor Dick neither. Sir, I'll bring him to you, and he will say the same. Well, we were all in terror and confusion, and I met him accidentally in the street. He was only a customer till then, and paid ready money, so that is how I never knew his name, but if I hadn't been the greatest fool in England, I should have asked his wife.” “What! he has a wife?” “Ay, sir, the loveliest lady you ever clapped eyes on, and he is almost as handsome; has eyes in his head like jewels; 'twas by them I knew him on the quay, and I think he knew my voice again, said as good as he had heard it in past times.” “Did he? Then we have got him,” cried the doctor energetically. “La, Sir.” “Yes; if he knows your voice, you will be able in time to lead his memory back; at least, I think so. Do you live in Cape Town?” “Dear heart, no. I live at my own farm, a hundred and eighty miles from this.” “What a pity!” “Why, sir?” “Well--hum!” “Oh, if you think I could do the poor doctor good by having him with me, you have only to say the word, and out he goes with Dick and me to-morrow morning. We should have started for home to-night, but for this.” “Are you in earnest, madam?” said the doctor, opening his eyes. “Would you really encumber yourself with a person whose reason is in suspense, and may never return?”