"Then you will keep out of my way?" "I repeat that I am not in your way. If I should say that I will keep out of your way, I would imply what is not true; the young lady is absolutely free so far as I am concerned." At this point the Doctor came up. He shook hands with Willis and went into his tent. I urged Willis to follow, but he would not. I offered to lead the conversation into the matter in which he was so greatly interested, but he would not consent. The Doctor reappeared. "Lydia will be here to-night," he said. "You surprise me, Doctor." "Yes; but I am now pretty sure that we shall be here for a week to come, and we shall not move our camp before the rear division moves. Lydia will find enough to do here." Willis soon took his leave. I accompanied him for a short distance; on parting with him I told him that he might expect to see me again at night. "What!" said he; "you are going to leave the Doctor?" "Yes," I replied; "expect me to-night." Willis looked puzzled; he did not know what to say, and said nothing. When I entered the Doctor's tent, I found him busily writing. He looked up, then went on with his work. Presently, still continuing to write, he said, "So Willis is angry." "Why do you say so, Doctor?" "Anybody could have seen it in his manner," said he. I tried to evade. "He was out of sorts," said I. "What does 'out of sorts' mean?" asked the Doctor. Then, before I could reply, he continued: "I have often thought of that expression; it is a good one; it means to say gloomy, depressed, mentally unwell, physically ill perhaps. Yes, Willis is out of sorts. Out of sorts means mixed, unclassified, unassorted, having one's functions disordered. One who cannot separate his functions distinctly is unwell and, necessarily, miserable. Willis showed signs of dementia; his brain is not acting right. I think I can cure him." I said nothing. In the Doctor's tone there was not a shade of sarcasm. He continued: "Perfect sanity would be impossible to predicate of any individual; doubtless there are perfectly sane persons, that is, sane at times, but to find them would be like finding the traditional needle. I suppose our good friend Willis would rank higher than the average, after all is said." "Willis is a good soldier," said I, "and a good sergeant." "Yes, no doubt he is; he ought to know that he is just the man for a soldier and a sergeant, and be content." Now, of course, I knew that Dr. Khayme, by his clear knowledge of nature, not to say more, was able to read Willis; but up to this time I had not suspected that Willis's hopes in regard to Lydia had alarmed or offended my learned friend; so I continued to beat round the subject. "I cannot see," said I, "why Willis might not aspire to a commission. If the war continues, there will be many chances for promotion."