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THE DAREWELL CHUMS IN THE CITY

ventured to engage her as a sort of emergency nurse.

"That's right," spoke Bart. "You can send the bill to me, doctor, and we'll pay for the nurse."

"I'm sure that's very good of you," Dr. Smithers went on, "to take so much interest in a boy you never saw before, as I understand it."

"Can't tell but we might want the same kind of help ourselves, some day," Frank remarked.

"That's so," the physician agreed. "Well, now I believe I'll go. He'll get along all right I think, and I'll look in on him in the morning."

Frank and Bart arranged to occupy the latter's bed that night, as it was a large one. As Frank went into his room, where the rescued boy was, to get some clean clothing for the morning, he saw the lad lying asleep, with the woman watching at the head of the bed. The gas was turned low, but a gleam from it struck on the cheek of the sleeper. As Frank passed close by the bed he looked down on the patient, and, as he did so, he started. For there, on the right cheek of the boy, was a small, but vivid red scar. Frank pointed to it, before he knew what he was doing. The nurse, seeing his gesture, looked up in alarm.

"That mark!" whispered Frank. "Is it a cut? Did he fall and hurt himself?"