Spike did not believe that Mrs. Peterson had ever met Le Fevre.

She took the announcement calmly. Too calmly. The rest of us did believe that she was the close friend of the master that she claimed to be, and we expected her to clap her hands and to plan to entertain him. Instead, she sat very, very still and murmured, 'I wonder if he will remember me after all these years.' And she refused to write him, to meet him at the train, to entertain him.

We were so disappointed that we were cold with anger. We did not believe a single word that she had ever uttered. We left shortly, indignant, thinking of revenge. She had lied to us. She had never been a friend of Le Fevre. Her actions branded her as a malicious, deliberate charlatan. We hoped sincerely that she did n't think that we believed everything she said.

We brought our long-festering doubts into the open and planned our vengeance. We would force her to meet Le Fevre. We would confront her with her own callous lies. And how we should enjoy her suffering! We even went so far as to confess to a few friends outside our charmed circle that we were beginning to have grave doubts of the lady's ability to speak the truth.

The news of Mrs. Peterson's incipient downfall spread quickly. We had been a trifle obnoxious, perhaps, in our superior knowledge of the past masters, and not a few of our acquaintances awaited with undisguised pleasure the toppling of our idol, hoping that we, too, would be injured in the debacle. Everywhere we were greeted with sarcastic chuckles and inquiries as to the health of Mrs. Peterson.

Then came a message that Le Fevre was ill in his New York hotel and had canceled his engagement. We were all a little glad, for, after all, Mrs. Peterson

had been an intimate friend for three months and we still had some shreds of decency left in spite of our indignation. We returned to her tea-table and found her in the best of spirits. She talked charmingly of the past, supplying us with a great fund of information concerning the man who was unable to speak to us. She was witty, brilliant

and almost convincing. And she continued to expatiate upon the charm of the man, the beauty of his massive leonine head, and the firmness of his wide thin mouth until a telegram came to Spike, saying that M. Le Fevre was recovered and would arrive in town the next evening to say a few words about the new Briot Plan of Scholarships and to receive for that splendid piece of idealism any donations the college body might feel it could give.

Mrs. Peterson was silent, but firm in her refusal to have a tea for the visiting celebrity. She accepted, however, our invitation to sit in the front row with the officers of the Athenic and to chat with the visitor after the lecture. Poor Mrs. Peterson. She could not refuse; our many references to her past friendship with the man were too frank in their sarcasm to permit her to retire. We were challenging her and she knew it.

Brave Mrs. Peterson. We really expected a message the following day announcing a sudden illness. We should scarcely have blamed her, for we were practically certain that her supposed acquaintance with Le Fevre was entirely fictitious. But she was waiting for us at a quarter past eight in her small reception-hall, looking more fragile and appealing than ever. Her large blue eyes were dark-ringed, and she seemed old and tired. The eight of us were stern and polite; she would receive no quarter from any

of us.

As we took our seats in Jesup Hall,

a number of people bowed to us, and Mrs. Peterson remarked quietly that there was quite an audience. Perhaps she knew that a number of those present had come more to see her baited than to listen to the speaker. If she realized the fact, however, she disclosed her knowledge of it by no gesture or word. Sitting upright in her seat, with her hands clasped, she looked neither to the right nor to the left.

The president of the Athenic stepped forward, introduced M. Le Fevre, and asked the ushers to pass the contribution boxes quietly. Then he bowed to someone off-stage and returned to his seat.

Accompanied by a polite applause, the speaker stepped upon the platform. He was a smallish man with stone-gray hair immaculately cut and brushed, and a rather small head. The 'wide thin mouth' which we had admired in Mrs. Peterson's descriptions was short and very loose. We turned automatically toward her and accused her silently. The speaker was in no respect like the image of Le Fevre which we had worshiped. He did n't look a great deal like his photographs, and he resembled not a whit Mrs. Peterson's too graphic picture of him.

The lady was obviously confused and was barely able to answer our relentless questions with a murmured, 'He has changed a great deal.'

Except for that remark she said nothing during the short and rather disappointing speech. When he bowed and stepped to one side at the conclusion of a rambling résumé of the Briot Plan, she drew herself up and smiled at us as if to say, 'Now we shall see.'

The president announced that the offerings of the college had been most gratifying; Le Fevre thanked us briefly and courteously; and the audience began to file out. A few hung behind,

and we knew that they were the audience for our private performance, the keen huntsmen who wanted to be in at the death. We rose and approached the great man.

Mrs. Peterson was noticeably flushed, but she betrayed no fear. Indeed, she wore all the gestures of a charming lady about to greet an old, old friend. We were impressed in spite of ourselves, but the agony of self-reproach that was to bear down upon us like a torrent had not yet been unloosed. We were still eager for the crash.

The crash came, but it did not so much as move Mrs. Peterson from her secure pedestal. It was the group of eight revengeful, serious-minded seniors who were overwhelmed. Mrs. Peterson advanced with both hands extended.

'My dear Maurice,' she said, 'I do hope you have n't forgotten me Dolly Lampson. Dolly Peterson now. After all those wonderful days in Paris.'

The great Le Fevre stared at her a moment, a trifle bewildered, it seemed to us. Then his face brightened and, taking her proffered hands, he bent over them.

'Dolly Lampson. Forget you! Ah, nevair-r-r-e! It would not be possible. Those wonderful, wonderful days.'

We heard little of the ensuing conversation, for we were too stunned and too ashamed of ourselves. Also we were busy regaining our self-importance and reinstating Mrs. Peterson in our affections. Gone were the unkind doubts. Forgotten was every cruel thought. She was once again our Mrs. Peterson, the friend of the great Le Fevre.

The conversation between our idols was one-sided, because Mrs. Peterson was particularly gay and loquacious. Le Fevre laughed constantly at the memories of old times that she evoked,

and supplemented her remarks with knowing gestures and friendly glances. Unfortunately the triumph was shortened by the approach of the president of the Athenic, who announced wistfully that M. Le Fevre had insisted upon returning on the 10.12 train. He wished that he could be persuaded.

But no! The great man had important business elsewhere. But he turned as he reached for his hat and laid a last sprig of laurel upon Mrs. Peterson's now-cluttered altar.

'Had I but known, my dear Dolly, that you were here, I should certainly have planned to stay longer,' and he bent upon the lady the most complete look of admiration we had ever

seen.

We walked home on clouds. We almost kissed Mrs. Peterson at the door. We sat late in our rooms rejuvenating our vicarious friendships with Wilde and Shaw and Whistler. And on the following day we hastened to Dr. Peterson's house as soon as the clock struck four.

We must have appeared pompous and haughty as we crossed the campus that afternoon, eight of us and Mrs. Peterson, on the way to the tea-shop. Our noses were back in joint again and completely in the air. But we received a number of glances of genuine admiration as we passed groups of students. We were slightly hilarious, all of us, and as we neared Jesup Hall, that scene of last night's triumph, we

broke into undignified laughter at one of Mal's sallies.

A head was thrust from a window and an excited voice called out, 'Spike! Spike! Wait a minute.'

It was one of the minor members of the Athenic and he joined us at once, breathless and nearly in tears. It took some coaxing to find out the trouble, but, when he had regained his breath, the words tumbled out in a confused stream that froze our hearts.

He had been in the Athenic office, he told us, when the chief of police had come in. He had been most unpleasant. Le Fevre's secretary had wired that the master was dangerously ill and had been for weeks. What was the meaning of these ridiculous newspaper reports? The speaker of the evening had been a scoundrel and a pretender. Furthermore, he had disappeared with the voluntary and generous contributions of the student body. The chief of police had said

We did n't listen to the rest. We turned to where Mrs. Peterson stood, her gray sport-hat pulled a trifle more dashingly than usual over those clear blue eyes. Her hands were thrust more jauntily than was customary in faculty circles into her gray-plaid coat.

'Boys,' she said gayly, 'has n't it been the most glorious, ninety-day, free-for-all rag, as dear old Arthur Christopher Benson used to say!'

She straightened her hat, and her eyes seemed to us unbelievably wicked. We wondered.

'You may have her. You know you can cure her if you will; anyhow, she is no use to me.'

Thus did the Chinese villager hand over the wife of his bosom to the mission ladies. There were two of them in that jungle station, far from all other Europeans and without any medical training. The poor woman who was of no use to her husband had a terribly infected hand, and the natives had tried all the medicines and the incantations they knew, before seeking the mission. Just as 'Teacher' was struggling to deal wisely with such a problem, a passing coolie left a note saying that an American woman doctor expected to pass through that station and stay overnight. Permission was given for the Chinese woman to lie on the floor of the schoolroom until I came.

Coming meant travel by chair, from six in the morning until nine at night, over mountain ranges of Fukien Province, fording or ferrying a wild river sixteen times, with five men who spoke no English- and I spoke no Chinese. The one man who had worked for Europeans knew that if we stopped I should want hot water; if I gave him rice he was to cook it and return it in the vessel in which he received it; for sanitary reasons I preferred that it should not be handled. We went through tiger country; in fact a tiger had been killed near by but a few days before. Robbers abounded, but I was saved from them by a well-grounded reputation for having no money. When

robbers are caught in these mountains, they are tied up by the queues to any safe post until someone happens to be going toward the proper authorities. The trip is then made with the queue tied to that of the guard. The 'road' -by courtesy-was mostly steps cut into the mountain-sides, and when the coolies were tired and wanted a rest they calmly dropped me, trusting that I would thereafter walk a bit.

Finally I arrived and inspected the hand, agreeing that it was ko li ab adee (oh, very dreadful); but, since it had been infected for weeks, I decided that to-morrow, after sleep, would answer. The husband could get another wife, since this one could not work; but, should anything go wrong with this one, he would probably feel that I had mishandled her in order to 'make medicine.'

I was traveling without equipment, since heretofore I had worked only with other doctors, in their hospitals, and my dismay was intensified by the utter lack here of all the needed things.

'Oh, we have some instruments,' quoth the teacher cheeringly. 'A nurse once left us some, for just such emergencies.' I was cheered, until I saw them: a large, horn-handled jackknife (such as a small boy adores, until he finds that it will not cut), a pair of scissors, and an old artery-forceps! Instruments! A large jar of Epsom salt was also produced to gladden my eyes.

I knew the Chinese name for washing