ngue. For having
had occasion once for bitterness, it was not over-hard to waken it when
men served as topics. But at Hennessy she smiled tolerantly. "Didn't I
give him a chance to get well? That was all he needed or wanted. And, now
he's well, he'll go about his business."

"Faith," and Hennessy closed a suggestive eye, "that depends on what he
takes to be his business. In my young days the choosin' an' courtin' of a
wife was the big part of a man's business. Now if he comes round askin' my
opinion--"

"Tell him, Hennessy"--and Sheila fixed him firmly with a glance--"that
the sanitarium does not encourage its cured patients to hang about
bothering its nurses. It is apt to make trouble for the nurses.
Understand?"

Again Hennessy closed one eye; then he laughed. "When ye talk of devils
ye're sure to smell brimstone. There comes Mr. Brooks now, an' he has his
head back like a dog trailin' the wind."

The girl turned and followed Hennessy's jerking thumb with her eyes.
Across the pine grove, coming toward them, was a young man above medium
height, square-shouldered and erect. There was nothing startlingly
handsome nor remarkable about his appearance; he was just nice, strong,
clean-looking. He waved to the two by the rest-house.

"And do ye mind his looks when he came!" Hennessy's tone denoted wonder
and admiration.

"A human wreck--haunted at that." There was a good deal more than mere
professional interest in Sheila's tone; there was pride and something
else. It was past Hennessy's perceptive powers to define what, but he
noticed it, nevertheless, and looked sharply up at the girl.

"For the love o' Mike, Miss Leerie! Why can't ye stop ticketin' each man
as a case an' begin thinkin' about them human-like? Ye might begin
practisin' wi' Mr. Brooks."

The line of Sheila's lips became fixed; the chin that could look so
demure, the eyes that could look so soft and gentle, both backed up the
lips in an expression of inscrutable hardness.

"In the name of your patron saint, Hennessy, what have you said to Miss
Leerie to turn her into that sphinx again?" The voice of Peter Brooks was
as nice as his appearance.

Hennessy looked foolish. "I was tellin' her, then," he moistened his lips
to allow a safer emigration of words--"I was tellin' her--that the gray
swan had the rheumatism in his left leg, an' I was askin' her, did she
think Doctor Willum would prescribe a thermo bath for him. I'd best be
askin' him meself, ma