Only once in fact across the intervening chasm of crankiness did the Senior Surgeon hurl a smile that was even remotely self-conscious or conciliatory. Glancing up suddenly from a particularly sharp and disagreeable speech, he noted the White Linen Nurse's red lips mumbling softly one to the other. "Are you specially--religious,--Miss Malgregor?" he grinned quite abruptly. "No, not specially, sir," said the White Linen Nurse. "Why, sir?" "Oh, it 's only--" grinned the Senior Surgeon dourly, "it's only that every time I'm especially ugly to you, I see your lips moving as though in 'silent prayer' as they call it--and I was just wondering--if there was any special formula you used with me--that kept you so--everlastingly--damned serene. Is there?" "Yes, sir," said the White Linen Nurse. "What is it?" demanded the Senior Surgeon quite bluntly. "Do I have to tell?" gasped the White Linen Nurse. A little tremulously in her hand the empty cup she was carrying rattled against its saucer. "Do I have to tell?" she repeated pleadingly. A delirious little thrill of power went fluttering through the Senior Surgeon's heart. "Yes, you have to tell me!" he announced quite seriously. In absolute submission to his demand, though with very palpable reluctance, the White Linen Nurse came forward to the table, put down the cup and saucer, and began to finger a trifle nervously at the cloth. "Oh, I'm sure I didn't mean any harm, sir," she stammered. "But all I say is,--honest and truly all I say is,--'Bah! He's nothing but a man--nothing but a man--nothing but a man!' over and over and over,--just that, sir!" Uproariously the Senior Surgeon pushed back his chair, and jumped to his feet. "I guess after all I'll have to let the little kid call you--'Peach'--one day a week!" he acknowledged jocosely. With infinite seriousness then he tossed back his great splendid head,--shook himself free apparently from all unhappy memories,--and started for his work-room,--a great gorgeously vital, extraordinarily talented, gray-haired _boy_ lusting joyously for his own work and play again--after a month's distressing illness! From the edge of the hall he turned round and made a really boyish grimace at her. "Now if I only had the horns or the cloven hoof--that you think I have," he called, "what an easy time I'd make of it, raking over all the letters and ads. that are stacked up on my desk!" "Yes, sir," said the White Linen Nurse. Only once did he come back into the kitchen or dining-room for anything. It was at seven o'clock. And the White Linen Nurse was still washing dishes. As radiant as a gray-haired god he towered up in the doorway. The boyish rejuvenation in him was even more startling than before.