Reuben had lived through a heavy time while Mr. Welland gazed at the completed chess game, his monkey face a stillness. Then--"Yes," said Mr. Welland, "you and I must be friends. Yet I have never taught...." The doctor spent much time laying the chessmen away in their plain box, the stillness remaining, his lips pursed, a dim frown coming and going. He carried the box to a drawer of a battered cabinet, then stood before the single bookcase in his surgery, stoop-shouldered, elderly, pinching his small chin with thumb and forefinger. "Mm-yas--Vesalius. Not the most recent but still the best." He spread the tall book open on his desk. With the appearance of impatience he nodded for Reuben to come to him. "This is a man," said Amadeus Welland. "You've glimpsed him, clad in garments, and in a skin--itself an organ of first importance, but forget it for the moment and look on him here, flayed. You can imagine, I suppose, what these are--these flowing, overlapping bands?" "Muscles, surely?" "Yes. Place your left hand by your right armpit, here, now draw your right arm leftward; what bunches under your fingers is this, here in the drawing, and the name of it is _Pectoralis major_, and you may find some little trouble in remembering it." "I will try to remember it." "I am glad you said 'try.' I have spent fifty-three years striving to overcome that vanity wherewith all men are born. You'll also try, and succeed, in remembering the names of all the other muscles in this drawing, and in this one where the fella turns you his flayed back, and in all these other drawings further on. You will reflect that muscles, while of major importance, are not more important than all the organs that live below them in their manifold occasions--since these also you must remember, all of them, their names, their functions so far as we know them, the many changes that will affect them in youth and age, sickness and health. Here, for example, is the diagram of the bony frame that bears us. When my own studies began I had first to learn these bones--all of them, naturally, their names, position, function whether in action or repose--mm-yas, as you will. I do recall my teacher once struck me across the face with a dry bone called the radius--this one--because I called it the ulna, for the which I later praised him--with reservations." "Reservations, sir?" "It was possible for him," said Mr. Welland lightly, and took snuff. "It would not be possible for me to strike--a student. Fi-_choo_-shoo! And here, sir, is a representation of the human heart...."