“You are better?” he said, quietly. Alexander nodded. “How do you feel?” “Weak.” “How long have you been awake?” “Two—or three—hours—I think. I don’t know,” whispered Alick, feebly and with pain and difficulty. “Oh no!” said the surgeon, taking out his watch and consulting it—“not near so long as that, though it may seem so to you; not more than fifteen or twenty minutes at the most.” And Doctor Dietz put up his watch and took hold of the wrist of his charge. “I’ve—been ill—long—long,” whispered Alick, looking up from his dark, hollow, cavernous eyes. “No; there again you are mistaken. You have been down little more than a week. But it is always so when there has been a period of semi-consciousness. The patient loses all calculation of time, and on recovery either fancies that no time at all, or else a very long period, has elapsed during his illness. But now listen to me. You are very much better, and you are on the high road to a speedy recovery. But you must not, as yet, exert yourself at all. You must not even speak, except when to do so is absolutely necessary, and then you must only whisper. Whenever you can answer by a nod, or a shake of the head, or whenever you can make your wishes known by signs, do so, instead of speaking. You must spare your lungs as much as possible. If you follow my direction in this it will be the best for you. Will you do it? Mind, _nod_, if you mean yes.” Alexander nodded. “That’s right. And now—do you feel hungry or thirsty?—Stop! don’t answer that question, because I didn’t ask it right, and you can’t answer it without speaking. I will put it in another form. Do you feel hungry?” Alexander nodded. “And thirsty?” Alick hesitated a moment and then nodded. “Ah! I understand. You are quite sure you are hungry; but you are not so very sure that you are thirsty. And upon the whole you feel as if you would like something to eat and to drink as well. Just as we all feel about breakfast time, eh?” Alexander nodded and smiled. “Quite right,” said the surgeon. And then he rang the bell. “Would you like black tea, cream toast, and poached eggs?” inquired the surgeon. He was answered by the regulation nod. The waiter came, and received the surgeon’s orders to prepare the required refreshments and to send the valet to the room. And when Simms entered, and while waiting for the breakfast to be prepared, the surgeon, assisted by the valet, changed the dressings of the patient’s wounds, and made him clean and fresh and comfortable, so that he might be able to enjoy the delicate repast that had been ordered for him. After his change of clothes, and his nourishing breakfast, he was laid down again upon fresh pillows, and his bed was tidied and his room darkened, and he himself was enjoined to rest.