of the fever supervenes and the patient becomes really ill.
I luckily had at this time a patient who was suffering from typhoid—just an isolated case—and on the following day I obtained the necessary infective matter from his house—how, it matters not—and on the following day called to see Octavius and gave him a few sweets, knowing that as they were forbidden him he would hold his tongue, and most certainly eat them.
And now came the question of diplomacy. I had to get my fish to rise to my fly.
The Colonel was always pleased to see me for a smoke and drink after dinner, and within the week Dr. Elleston and myself were sitting together listening to the yarns of the old soldier.
"You are quite happy about the boy, Doctor?" he asked my professional brother.
"Oh, quite," answered Elleston in his bluff way; "he's all right; just the digestive upset of a boy who doesn't know when he's had enough to eat."
"Well, I thought he looked a little bit seedy," I remarked in a deprecating way. "But still, boys will be boys."
"Yes, of course," laughed "the Opposi-
