dn't have done what my heart was longing to do,
everything is different now. I don't believe that I enjoy being
'grown-up.' What an unpleasant thing 'convention' is. Why, I
wonder, must we always hide our true feelings under a mask? I
suppose it is lest the world give a wrong meaning to them; but if I
_had_ kissed him, the way I used to, I'm sure that Donald would
have understood. He knows that I love him as dearly as though I
were truly his sister, instead of a make-believe one."

Here the page bears a number of meaningless hieroglyphics, and then the
words, stricken out, "I wonder."

"He looked so manly in his uniform, and so distinguished, although
I suppose that he isn't really _handsome_--at least, not like Dr.
Bentley. _He_ isn't so wonderful as Don; but I think that he is
more understanding. He seemed to realize just how I felt this
morning, and he was as sweet and considerate as a woman when I
bungled things awfully in the operating room. The head nurse gave
me a deserved call down, however, and it was perhaps just as well
that she did, for my mind needed to be 'brought back.' Only my body
was in the hospital, and the _real me_, as Mr. Talmadge said, was
back in the cabin, helping Donald operate on Lou, all over again. I
cried like a little fool--the first time I have done it here--but
my tears weren't for the poor baby on the operating table. They
were memory tears....

"Poor little thing, he had to die, and he was the first one whom I
have seen pass on to the eternal garden of God's flowers since I
have been in the hospital. Oh, it hasn't been a happy day at
all....

"I wonder if Donald could have saved him? My brain answers, 'No.'
Dr. Bentley did all that lies within the power of science, I am
sure. But somehow ..."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Christmas night.

"If Donald might only have been here in person to-day, it would have been
perfect. I think that he must have been, in spirit, for I 'felt' his
presence quite near me several times; I confided as much to Dr. Bentley
and he made an atrocious pun on the word 'presents.' I wish he wouldn't;
it is the only thing about him that I don't like, but he will make them.
Wasn't Donald thoughtful and dear to have bought a Christmas gift for me
during those overcrowded days before he went away?--a whole set of
books, beautifully bound, but better still, beaut