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Now, then, wrap it up. You had tet
ter get home and have your folks at
tend to you."
"I have no home," replied Ned, and
he flushed slightly. "I mean I have
no friends in the place. I am a stran
ger here and room at one place and
take my meals at anothen"
"So?" murmured Mr. Roscoe, sym
pathizingly. "Well, I'm not a novice
as a surgeon. Come up to the house
and I'll fix you up double-quick."
He wrapped his fine cambric hand
kerchief about the wounded hand and
took Ned's arm, as if to support him,
leading the way towards the house.
Half the distance accomplished, a
servant came running up to him In a
noticeable state of excitement
"Oh, Mr. Roscoe," he shouted, "the
golden pheasants have got out and
are running away!"
"Aha, that won't do!" cried the old
man. "Here," to Ned, releasing his
arm, "go right on to the house and
tell my daughter Lois to attend to
yo'u. She's even better at this doctor
ing business than I am.
Ned had no thought of following
these instructions. , He passed on
through the garden, however, to
reach the street As he nearer the
porch his eye fell upon a rare vision
of airiness and beauty. A lovely girl
sat looking over a book of engrav
ings. She glanced up and then she
rose up, as if some telepathic sense
directed her. She stepped to the edge
of the veranda.
"You are in pain, in trouble," she
spoke in a low musical tone "I can
see it in your eyes."
"I have met with an accident in
working on your father's garage,"
faltered Ned. He could not help but
answer the probing, earnest eyes.
"Mr. Roscoe asked me to have my
hand cared for '
She was down the steps in a flash.
Her" soft white hand clasped his arm.
"You must come with me, you
must be attended to at once."
As if a captive led in chains, for the
life of blm Ned Walworth could iot
resist her. It was all Tike a dream,
Entering a room, she washed his
wounded hand without a quiver of,
distaste, dressed it, all the time
speaking in a tone like rare music,
and finally led him into the library
and to its most cozy chair.
"You must wait and rest father
will be sure to want to seeyou. I1
fear you are not much of a work
man," she said, with a glance at his
hands, soft and well-formed as those
of a woman.
"I shall have to become one or
starve!" he replied seriously. "I made
a failure at literature and turned to
She nodded to him as she was call
ed by someone to another part of the
house. He was feeling comfortable
now. A soothing, homelike feeling
came over Kim. He picked up one of
the numerous periodicals scattered
over the table near at hand. A quick,
gratified flush crossed his face. He
read and reread an article surround
ed by a heavy pencil mark. He look
ed up to find Miss Roscoe in the door
way, her deep, fathomless eyes fixed
"You are pleased at something;"
she said in her prescient way.
"I wrote that article," explained
Ned somewhat proudly.
"Oh, did you, indeed?" she cried in
a pleased way. "Father, you know,
is financing a humanitarian maga
zine. He was especially taken with
that article. What beautiful thoughts
you must have!"
Ned felt like one in a dream when
he went home. Mr. Roscoe had asked
him to be sure to call the next day,
indicating that he wished to talk with
him about his literary proclivities.
But Ned Walworth did not see the
Roscoes for many a long day after
that. There was a false friend named
Bardell, who had swindled him out of
all his savings. The man, terribly ill,
had sent for him. The "fluid soul"
impetus imparted by Mr. Roscoe sent
Ned to the stricken moneyless Mi
grate. He nursed him for two weeks.