n along the Street, calling Dr. Max
a dude, I never thought I'd lie here watching that door to see him come
in. You have had trouble, too. Ain't it the hell of a world, anyhow? It
ain't much of a Christmas to you, either."

Sidney fed him his morning beef tea, and, because her eyes filled up
with tears now and then at his helplessness, she was not so skillful as
she might have been. When one spoonful had gone down his neck, he smiled
up at her whimsically.

"Run for your life. The dam's burst!" he said.

As much as was possible, the hospital rested on that Christmas Day. The
internes went about in fresh white ducks with sprays of mistletoe in
their buttonholes, doing few dressings. Over the upper floors, where the
kitchens were located, spread toward noon the insidious odor of roasting
turkeys. Every ward had its vase of holly. In the afternoon, services
were held in the chapel downstairs.

Wheel-chairs made their slow progress along corridors and down
elevators. Convalescents who were able to walk flapped along in carpet
slippers.

Gradually the chapel filled up. Outside the wide doors of the corridor
the wheel-chairs were arranged in a semicircle. Behind them, dressed for
the occasion, were the elevator-men, the orderlies, and Big John, who
drove the ambulance.

On one side of the aisle, near the front, sat the nurses in rows, in
crisp caps and fresh uniforms. On the other side had been reserved a
place for the staff. The internes stood back against the wall, ready to
run out between rejoicings, as it were--for a cigarette or an ambulance
call, as the case might be.

Over everything brooded the after-dinner peace of Christmas afternoon.

The nurses sang, and Sidney sang with them, her fresh young voice rising
above the rest. Yellow winter sunlight came through the stained-glass
windows and shone on her lovely flushed face, her smooth kerchief, her
cap, always just a little awry.

Dr. Max, lounging against the wall, across the chapel, found his eyes
straying toward her constantly. How she stood out from the others! What
a zest for living and for happiness she had!

The Episcopal clergyman read the Epistle:

"Thou hast loved righteousness, and hated iniquity; therefore God, even
thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows."

That was Sidney. She was good, and she had been anointed with the oil of
gladness. And he--

His brother was singing. His deep bass voice, not always true,