Mr. Jones hesitated, torn as many another good man, between his vanity and his appetite. Before his eyes flowed a tantalizing stream of those delicacies so dear to his palate. In his pocket reposed two dimes, his wealth until pay day on the morrow would replenish his purse. Why should not a good fellow entertain his friends even though they resort to personal comments? Rent by conflicting desires, he jingled the coins. As he fingered them, there flashed the remembrance of the war tax. He turned to Kelly and his voice was very sad, as he murmured, "I guess that you're right, old man. We'll cut out the sweet stuff." They had no difficulty in locating Joe Curtis. His sunny characteristics had won him already wide spread friendships among the hospital staff, so that the way to his bed was indicated as the path to a neighbor's door. Kelly grinned amiably at Miss Knight, and inquired, "May I speak to Joe Curtis?" The nurse looked at the big fellow with the appraising eye of a connoisseur of men. "Sure," she retorted, "if you can talk and he will give you a chance to." The participants in this repartee were much pleased with its cleverness. They laughed loudly. Mr. Jones, considering the remarks frivolous, did not deign to unbend from a stately poise assumed by him when in the presence of ladies. Miss Knight was evidently a person of ordinary origin, lacking in discrimination. She had failed to notice the stenographer, confining her attentions, including her smiles, to the husky Kelly. "Here's another friend, Joe," the nurse told the injured motorcyclist when they arrived at his bedside. She failed to take account of Mr. Jones who had progressed down the aisle with mien of great distinction. His entrance was marred only by a remark of a vulgar patient who in a coarse whisper desired to be advised, "Who let Charlie Chaplin in?" much to the amusement of other low fellows. "Hello, Joe, how's business?" asked Kelly. "Fine, Mike, fine. Never better," responded the patient. "Meet my friend, Mr. Percy Jones." The introduction was impaired as the stenographer's attention was devoted to frowning down masculine giggles reminiscent of the reference to the illustrious movie star. That the social exigencies of the moment might not be overlooked, Kelly dug a finger into the stenographer's side. Mr. Jones undulated as to a measure of the Hula Hula. "Wough," he yelled. "Wot cher doin'?" Happy laughter arose from nearby beds. Miss Knight swept her recumbent charges with a glance of stern reproof. "Where's your manners?" she demanded. "Cut out this rough stuff or--" she paused for effect and then launched this terrifying threat--"you'll get no ice cream on Wednesday." The male surgical cases quailed before this menace of cruel and unusual punishment. Peace reigned. "Gentlemen, be seated," invited Joe, in the rich and mellow tones of an interlocutor.