this
secretary is now to help Miss Garland get her book finished, so it can
go to the publishers as soon as possible."

"Is Miss Garland _my_ author lady?"

"Yes, dear."

"Then she won't need a typewriter herself now."

"O, yes, for this arrangement is only for a little while,--until Mrs.
Selwyn is well again. So some of us,--Dr. Rosencrans, Dr. Race, Dr.
Shumway, Dr. Crandall, Miss Pierson, Miss Wayne, and oh, a whole bunch
of nurses and friends, got up a collection and bought her a splendid new
machine like she wanted, and when she goes home she will find it waiting
for her."

"Doesn't she know?"

"Not a whisper. It's always to be a secret who gave it to her. We feared
that she might feel as if we thought she had been begging, if she knew
the names of the senders,--she is so extremely sensitive. So we just
tied a card to the case, and wrote on it, 'From your loving friends.'"

"That's reg'lar splendid, and I want my five dollars to help pay for it,
too."

"But, Peace,--" Gail began.

"There ain't any 'but' to it," declared the small sister with
determination. "I was the one who found her, and I mean to help."

"Very well," sighed Gail, studying the stubborn little chin and knowing
that Peace would gain her point in some way, even if denied the
privilege of contributing her one gold piece. "You surely did set the
ball rolling, for Mrs. Selwyn says your little author lady will make her
mark in the world before many years."

"Yes, I guess she will make a mark on the world, too," Peace agreed
complacently, "for now Benny's going to be like other children, and the
mother won't be so sick any more. Doesn't _everything_ end just
splendid?"

"Yes, my darling," whispered Gail to herself, "when you are around."

CHAPTER XIV

KETURAH AND BILLY BOLEE

"Well, Kitty, I am awful sorry, but it can't be helped now. It won't
take me more than half an hour or so in all probability, but will you
care to wait for me?"

Peace, dozing in her wheel-chair in a little, sheltered niche at the end
of the corridor, awoke with a start. Was that Dr. Dick speaking, or had
those words been part of a dream?

Another voice, unfamiliar to her, and sounding weary, indifferent and
pathetically mournful, answered, "Tomorrow will be the same."

"Yes," Dr. Shumway laughed apologetically, "I suppose it will.
Physicians can hardly claim a minute of their time for themselves."

"Then I might as well wait for you now."

"Very