Dr. Winthrop watched every article as it was put on; but when she was ready he quietly remarked, as he cut the string to the box which he had brought with him: “I do not dare to allow you to go out this first time since your illness, unless you are very warmly clad; so let me wrap this about you.” He drew forth a beautiful fur-lined cloak as he spoke, and, throwing it around her, bent down to fasten the clasp at the neck with his own hands. The nurse looked on with astonishment. “He must be made of money,” she said to herself, as she slyly felt the heavy satin. Salome’s lips quivered at this fresh evidence of his thoughtfulness. “How good you are to me, Dr. Winthrop,” she murmured. He drew back and looked down into her face, his hands still holding the clasp of the cloak. “I am Dr. Winthrop to my patients, Salome,” he said gravely, but with a little twinkle in his eyes. She understood him. “What shall I call you?” she asked, flushing, her eyes drooping from embarrassment, though her face dimpled with suppressed amusement over the ridiculousness of the situation, for, strange to say, she did not know the Christian name of the man whom she had married! Dr. Hunt had introduced him, and always spoken of him simply as Dr. Winthrop. The card accompanying his first floral gift had had “T. H. Winthrop, M.D.,” inscribed upon it; he had never told her what the initials stood for, and she had shrunk from asking. He looked amazed at her question, and then he laughed outright. “Is it possible, my Peace, that you do not know your husband’s name?” he exclaimed. “It is not only possible, but a fact, sir,” Salome answered, meeting his glance, and a sparkle of mischief dancing in the dark eyes. “But our acquaintance has not been of very long standing, you must remember.” “It has surely been long enough for that, but for my thoughtlessness,” he returned deprecatingly, and with some annoyance. “I imagined that you knew—that Dr. Hunt must have told you. My name is Truman, dear—do not call me Dr. Winthrop again, Salome, please.” Truman! how rightly he had been named, she thought; she had imagined it might, perhaps, be Thomas or Theodore. He was true, noble, good—a true man in every sense of the word, and the name fitted him exactly, and—blessed fact! she was his wife! “Are you ready now?” her husband continued, when she had drawn on her gloves and he had fastened them for her. “Yes,” she answered, “when I have said good-by to nurse.” “You have been very kind to me, and I thank you,” she said, with tears in her eyes, while the woman, too, seemed deeply moved, for she had grown to love her charge. As Salome turned to leave the room, Dr. Winthrop slipped an envelope into the hand of the nurse, then, hastening to his wife’s side, supported her down the stairs and to the entrance of the hospital. Dr. Hunt and the superintendent were waiting there to take leave of them.