now standing afar off. He worried and grew incoherent. He seemed to confuse Carroll with the boy who was sleeping under the stars far away in Arizona.
Doctor Foerder returned at four o'clock. He had not been expected before evening, but he was interested in the case. He had mentioned it in his lecture that day. He had commented on the wonderful display of vitality on the patient's part, and spoken of the value in such cases of moral treatment, of encouraging words and a confident manner. He read the nurse's chart, counted the colonel's pulse for fifteen seconds and calculated the rate by multiplication, drew down the old man's eyelids, noting the senile arc that was whitening the periphery of the cornea, and he examined the finger-nails; then the percussion and the auscultation. When he raised his black head, the colonel said:
"Any news?"
"You're doing well."
"Aw!" said the colonel impatiently, "I don't mean that—any news from the conventions?"
Foerder hesitated, as if half reluctant to display interest in anything so human, but said:
