"But I have. He has saved my life. I shall not let him go to the hospital," Bertha replied.

"Do you know him, or have you any authority in the case?"

"Yes; he is an old acquaintance. Go there," she said, handing the officer a card and speaking authoritatively.

The policeman read it and touched his hat to her. He recognized her authority without further question. With the help of bystanders Caleb was lifted into the carriage, and was driven away. Bertha stepped into another carriage and reached her home in advance of the first.

"Get a doctor quick," said Bertha to the coachman; and the coachman, seeing that he was obeying the order of a Beacon street lady who had plenty of money, lashed his horses to a run, a very unusual thing for a coachman to do, and after a while, returned with Doctor Tragacanth. Bertha's own coachman, who was sunning himself in the yard when the carriage containing Caleb drove up, followed by a crowd of boys, and who ran out to see what the commotion was about, having heard Miss Wayland's command, had run as fast as he could in search of Doctor Squills, and was fortunate enough to find him in his office, but just going out to make his usual calls. Aunt Janet's house boy, James, or Jim, as the cook usually called him, - eager to win the good will of his mistress and an extra half dollar, made his legs fly like drumsticks, while running to the office of Doctor Biceps. Thus it came about that Doctors Tragacanth, Squills and Biceps were each called to take charge of the case, and it so happened that they arrived at the mansion simultaneously.

The surgical gentlemen bowed stiffly to each other as they entered the chamber into which Caleb had been carried. "This is my case, I think," said Doctor Tragacanth.

"Mine, if you please," Doctor Squills replied.

"I intend to claim my rights, gentlemen," remarked Doctor Biceps.

"I shall not relinquish it." "Neither shall I."

"Nor I."

So they severally said.

Doctor Tragacanth began to examine the wound on the head, Doctor Squills proceeded to look at the bruises upon the chest, while Doctor Biceps gave his attention to the contusions on the limbs.

"Please leave nothing undone, gentlemen, that can be done for him."

It was a message from Miss Wayland, delivered by Peter, and as it was addressed to them collectively, the surgical gentlemen did their best, in perfect accord, to patch up the mangled form.

"There is a very bad contusion in the occipital region," said Doctor Tragacanth. "It is very bad. The cuticle is cut, not only through the papillary layer, but through the cronium. The posterior condyloid fossa is laid bare from the superior curved line across the foramen magnum. The cerebellum, the cerebro spinal axis, the encephalon, and the medulla oblongato, all must be more or less affected by the blow."

"I discover," said Doctor Squills, "that two of the costal cartilages are broken, and the lumbar regions appear to be seriously injured. There is a discoloration in the vicinity of the sacro lumbalis."

"The injuries to the limbs," said Doctor Biceps, "if not so dangerous as those about the head and chest, are still quite serious. The right fibula is splintered; there is an abrasion covering the entire surface of the right patella, ex

tending from the point where the quadriceps extensor crucis is attached, to the ligamentum patella."

"There is a deep incision," Doctor Tragacanth said, on the os frontalis, which may have injured the left orbicularis palpebrarum, and perhaps the corrugator supercilli and tensor tarsi. The retrahens aurem is bruised. There are contusions of the right zigomaticus major, the compressor naris, and the levator labii superioris proprius."

"Of course we cannot know," said Doctor Squills, "whether or not the abdominal region is injured internally, but the external discolorations are quite numerous on the thorax and along the dorsal pedicles to the sacrum and the coccyx."

"There is a displacement," said Doctor Biceps, "of the right ungual phalanges and the metatarsals; possibly the tendon, of the extensor brevis digatorium and the abductor polices may be detached, but unless mortification should set in, I do not think it will be necessary to amputate."

All this, rendered into every-day language, would have meant that there were very serious wounds on the back of the head, at the base of the brain. So severe were they that Caleb Krinkle was lying senseless before the doctors, and quite likely might continue so for several days. The blows had seriously affected the brain and the nerves connected with the spinal column. There were cuts here and there upon his head, in the left eyebrow, on the bridge of the nose, on the left cheek, and behind the left ear. There was a bad bruise on the right knee, one of the bones of his right leg was cracked, two of the lower ribs were broken, and there were bruises upon his body. In addition, the great toe of the right foot was badly jammed, but Doc tor Biceps was not in favor of cutting it off just then.

Having thus gone over the case, the blood was washed

from the matted hair, the scalp laid back in place, sticking plaster applied to the wounds, and the great toe done up in a rag. Science could do no more. The three wise men had done their best and the rest must be left to nature.

The three doctors went home quite well satisfied with their morning's work, - happy to know that when quarterday came round their bills would not be sent to the penni less young man, but to the heiress of Beacon street.

CHAPTER XXVII.

W

PETER AND HIS PATIENT.

HERE was he? It was a question that Caleb Krinkle was turning over in his mind. That he was in a strange place, a very nice place, that he was in bed, that something was the matter with him, was evident. The chamber was large. There were beautiful paintings on the walls; there was a marble mantle, with a fire beneath it in the grate. The curtains around the windows were of crimson and gold. A mirror reflected all the scene. The bedstead was of black walnut, richly carved. There was a stand with vials and goblets upon it, and a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers in a vase. Where was he? He had not the remotest idea. Where had he been last? His mind was rather foggy, and he could not make out much. What was he doing? He remembered that he took a stroll on the common; that the robins were singing; that he listened to them awhile, and thought that they were wishing him goodmorning. He remembered that he walked down a street. He had an indistinct recollection of the tumbling down of a staging, of seeing a lady in danger, and of wishing he could help her. But all else was fog, with not a shadow of recollection flitting about in it. He went over the events a second time, but with no better success. While thus thinking,