f the
grown-ups. There are more people ailing with mind-sickness and
heart-sickness, as well as body-sickness, than the world would guess,
and you've just got to nurse the whole of them. You will succeed,
whether you ever find this out or not; but you will miss a great deal
out of your life."

Anger was rekindling in the eyes of the Senior Surgeon; and Margaret
MacLean, seeing, grew gentle--all in a minute.

"Oh, I wish I could make you understand. You have always been so
strong and well and sufficient unto yourself, it's hard, I suppose, to
be able to think or see life through the iron slats of a hospital crib.
Just make believe you had been a little crippled boy, with nothing
belonging to you, nothing back of you to remember, nothing happy coming
to you but what the nurses or the doctors or the trustees thought to
bring. And then make believe you were cured and grew up. Wouldn't you
remember what life had been in that hospital crib, and wouldn't you
fight to make it happier for the children coming after you? Why, the
incurable ward was my whole life--home, family, friends, work;
everything wrapped up in nine little crippled bodies. It was all I
asked or expected of life. Oh, I can tell you that a foundling, with
questionable ancestry, with no birth-record or blood-inheritance to
boast of, claims very little of the every-day happiness that comes to
other people. And yet I was so glad to be alive--and strong and needed
by those children that I could have been content all my life with just
that."

The Senior Surgeon cleared his throat, preparatory to making some
comment, but the nurse raised a silencing finger.

"Wait! there is one thing more. What you have taken from me is the
smallest part. The children pay double--treble as much. I pay only
with my heart and faith; they pay with their whole lives. Remember
that when you install your new surgical ward--and don't reckon it too
cheap."

She left him still clearing his throat; and when she came out of the
board-room a few seconds later with the green Devonshire bowl in her
arms he had disappeared.

Margaret MacLean found Ward C as she had left it. As she was putting
down the primroses, on the table in the center of the room she caught
Bridget's white face beckoning to her eagerly. Softly she went over to
her cot.

"What is it, dear?"

"Miss Peggie darlin', if ye'd only give me leave to talk quiet I'd have
the childher cheered up in no time."