assured to catch a glimpse of cheery fires, lines of white-counterpaned beds and a profusion of coloured texts upon the wall. The corridor opened upon a small hall with a fringe of poorly clad people seated all round upon benches. A young man with a pair of scissors stuck, like a flower, in his button-hole, and a note-book in his hand, was passing from one to the other, whispering and writing.
'Anything good?' asked the third year's man.
'You should have been here yesterday,' said the out-patient clerk, glancing up. 'We had a regular field day. A popliteal aneurism, a Colles' fracture, a spina bifida, a tropical abscess, and an elephantiasis. How's that for a single haul?'
'I'm sorry I missed it. But they'll come again, I suppose. What's up with the old gentleman?'
A broken workman was sitting in the shadow, rocking himself slowly to and fro, and groaning. A woman beside him was trying to console him, patting his shoulder with a hand which was spotted over with curious little white blisters.
'It's a fine carbuncle,' said the clerk, with the air of a connoisseur who describes his orchids to one who can appreciate them. 'It's on his back, and the passage is draughty, so we must not
