ts," he yelled, "afore I git up an'
smash----"

"There, there," Bonsecours hastily interposed; saying to them: "Take
this brave fellow to Dug-out Three--he wants to see Nurse Marian. I'll
be right after you." But the instant they had left he turned to Jeb,
asking sharply: "Do you realize what your leaving means?"

"I think I do, sir."

"You would deliberately put upon me the responsibility of sending you?"

"Why, yes," Jeb answered, somewhat perplexed.

"Then I refuse!" the surgeon snapped. "I refuse, until you bring me word
that your little nurse friend from America desires it!"

Unaware of what was passing in Bonsecours' mind, Jeb stared after him in
complete amazement. He had intended, of course, to see Marian and say
good-bye to her, although it was an interview toward which he looked
with so much dread that once or twice he had thought of escaping it, and
writing her from somewhere else. Yet now he must bring some word from
her to this cranky surgeon, or he dared not leave, at all! His nerves
were rattled, and he fumbled through his pockets for the "makings";
spilled the tobacco and threw his ineffectual effort away in disgust.
Marian was in Dug-out Three, with Tim, Bonsecours, and the
stretcher-bearers! Oh, well, he told himself, perhaps it would be
easier to have them all present!--and he went out resolutely, turning
toward the third entrance. But on the threshold his resolution failed,
and he drew back, staring.

The soft light from an oil lamp made the interior look warm and
attractive, particularly because Marian was standing by the side of Tim,
smiling tenderly down at him. Across from her Bonsecours stood, also
smiling, but with a look of weariness--perhaps it was unhappiness. The
bearers were grinning, as the little sergeant now continued with what,
evidently, he had been saying:

"So ye see, lass, I couldn't go Blighty till I'd whispered a 'God bless
ye' to me own, an' only, sister!"

"I'd be very proud if you were my brother, Tim," she replied,
soothingly.

"She'd be very proud _if I were_," he looked at Bonsecours with a broad
grin. "Now w'ot d'ye know about thot, Doctor! If _I were_, indade!--as
if I _wasn't_! Shure, an' if the same blood don't run in both our veins,
'tis not Tim Doreen as would be here now, a-tellin' av it!"

"You're perfectly right," the surgeon laughed. "I did that deed myself,
and it ought to make you her brother!"

"_Ought_ to! Faith, an' it _did_!--iver since thot d