"When I was on the highway to recovery," resumed Noel, "one of the doctors told me that he didn't think that I would ever get to be marksman enough to hit my brain. Said I ought to practise trying to hit a pea in a wine barrel before I tried it again. Then I found out I could laugh," and he burst into one to prove it, "and decided that as long as I could take enough interest in life to laugh there was no occasion for my going on with my suicide plans."
Dr. Chennel and Floriot joined in the laugh with considerable restraint and the former felt that he was the "undesirable third."
"Well, I must be going," he said, gathering up his hat and bag and shaking hands with both the friends. "You have a good deal to tell each other. I'll be back in the morning," he added to Floriot. Then with many injunctions about the medicine and food he departed.
"And now," said Noel, putting a hand affectionately on each shoulder and holding his friend off at arm's length, "let me have a look at you, Louis, old man!" He paused and gravely scrutinized the smiling face. "Life has not been much kinder to you than to me, judging from your looks," he said at last. The hands fell and he turned away.
"Find me looking old, do you?"
"No, not old for your age," smiled Noel. "How old are you—forty?"
"Thirty-five!" protested Floriot.
"Well, nobody would say that you were a day more than forty-two!" his friend gravely assured him.
"Thank you!" was the ironic response, and they smiled into each other's eyes.
"Fancy! Five whole years since I saw you!"