owncast eyes, she went her way.

CHAPTER VII.

Her first case was in Brown's Buildings itself--a woman suffering from
bronchitis and heart complaint, and tormented besides by an ulcerated
foot which Marcella had now dressed daily for some weeks. She lived on
the top floor of one of the easterly blocks, with two daughters and a
son of eighteen.

When Marcella entered the little room it was as usual spotlessly clean
and smelt of flowers. The windows were open, and a young woman was busy
shirt-ironing on a table in the centre of the room. Both she and her
mother looked up with smiles as Marcella entered. Then, they introduced
her with some ceremony to a "lady," who was sitting beside the patient,
a long-faced melancholy woman employed at the moment in marking linen
handkerchiefs, which she did with extraordinary fineness and delicacy.
The patient and her daughter spoke of Marcella to their friend as "the
young person," but all with a natural courtesy and charm that could not
have been surpassed.

Marcella knelt to undo the wrappings of the foot. The woman, a pale
transparent creature, winced painfully as the dressing was drawn off;
but between each half stifled moan of pain she said something eager and
grateful to her nurse. "I never knew any one, Nurse, do it as gentle as
you--" or--"I _do_ take it kind of you, Nurse, to do it so _slow_--oh!
there were a young person before you--" or "hasn't she got nice hands,
Mrs. Burton? they don't never seem to _jar_ yer."

"Poor foot! but I think it is looking better," said Marcella, getting up
at last from her work, when all was clean and comfortable and she had
replaced the foot on the upturned wooden box that supported it--for its
owner was not in bed, but sitting propped up in an old armchair. "And
how is your cough, Mrs. Jervis?"

"Oh! it's very bad, nights," said Mrs. Jervis, mildly--"disturbs Emily
dreadful. But I always pray every night, when she lifts me into bed, as
I may be took before the morning, an' God ull do it soon."

"Mother!" cried Emily, pausing in her ironing, "you know you oughtn't to
say them things."

Mrs. Jervis looked at her with a sly cheerfulness. Her emaciated face
was paler than usual because of the pain of the dressing, but from the
frail form there breathed an indomitable air of _life_, a gay courage
indeed which had already struck Marcella with wonder.

"Well, yer not to take 'em to heart, Em'ly. It ull be when it will
be--for the L