to any one in this condition. Instead of that I fear at times
that you are--shall I say--flippant?" He turned about and looked at
the children. "How do you do?" he asked, kindly.

"Thank you, sir, we are very well, sir," they chorused in reply. Saint
Margaret's was never found wanting in politeness.

The President left; and the nurse in charge of Ward C went on with the
reading.

"'The Tin Soldier stood up to his neck in water; deeper and deeper sank
the boat, and the paper became more and more limp; then the water
closed over him; but the Tin Soldier remained firm and shouldered his
musket.'"

A group filled the doorway; it was the voice of the Oldest Trustee that
floated in. "This, my dear, is the incurable ward; we are very much
interested in it."

They stood just over the threshold--the Oldest Trustee in advance, her
figure commanding and unbent, for all her seventy years, and her
lorgnette raised. As she was speaking a little gray wisp of a woman
detached herself from the group and moved slowly down the row of cots.

"Yes," continued the Oldest Trustee, "we have two cases of congenital
hip disease and three of spinal tuberculosis--that is one of them in
the second crib." Her eyes moved on from Sandy to Rosita. "And the
fifth patient has such a dreadful case of rheumatism. Sad, isn't it,
in so young a child? Yes, the Senior Surgeon says it is absolutely
incurable."

Margaret MacLean closed the book with a bang; for five minutes the
children had been looking straight ahead with big, conscious eyes,
hearing not a word. Rebellion gripped at her heart and she rose
quickly and went over to the group.

"Wouldn't you like to come in and talk to the children? They are
rather sober this afternoon; perhaps you could make them laugh."

"Yes, wouldn't you like to go in?" put in the Oldest Trustee. "They
are very nice children."

But the visitors shrank back an almost infinitesimal distance; and one
said, hesitatingly:

"I'm afraid we wouldn't know quite what to say to them."

"Perhaps you would like to see the new pictures for the nurses' room?"
the nurse in charge suggested, wistfully.

The Oldest Trustee glanced at her with a hint of annoyance. "We have
already seen them. I think you must have forgotten, my dear, that it
was I who gave them."

With flashing cheeks Margaret MacLean fled from Ward C. If she had
stayed long enough to watch the little gray wisp of a woman move
quietly from cot t