pare us one or two nurses for a few days, pray do so. In all
my experience I have never been so hard pushed as now," wrote the other
surgeon. "The men here are all down with the fever, and I and my
assistant are almost crazed with incessant night-work. If we could be
relieved for one night even, it would be God's charity."

The surgeon of Number Two read this note aloud to Anne as they stood by
a table eating their hasty breakfast. "It is like the note you sent to
us at Number One," she said.

"Oh no; that was different, _I_ never send and take away other people's
nurses," said Dr. Janes, laughingly.

"I should like to go," she said, after a moment.

"You should like to go? I thought you were so much interested here."

"So I am; but after what I have seen, I am haunted by the thought that
there may be worse suffering beyond. That is the reason I came here. But
the men here are more comfortable now, and those who were suffering
hopelessly have been relieved forever from earthly pain. If we are not
needed, some of us ought to go."

"But if we pass you on in this way from post to post, we shall get you
entirely over the mountains, and into the Department of the Potomac,
Miss Douglas. What you say is true enough, but at present I refuse. I
simply can not spare you two. If they should send us a nurse from
Rivertown as they promised, we might get along without you for a while;
but not now. Charity, you know, begins at home."

Anne sighed, but acquiesced. The surgeon knew best. But during that day,
not only did the promised nurse from the Rivertown Aid Society arrive,
but with her a volunteer assistant, a young girl, her face flushed with
exaltation and excitement over the opportunity afforded her to help and
comfort "our poor dear wounded heroes." The wounded heroes were not
poetical in appearance; they were simply a row of ordinary sick men,
bandaged in various ways, often irritable, sometimes profane; their
grammar was defective, and they cared more for tobacco than for texts,
or even poetical quotations. The young nurse would soon have her romance
rudely dispelled. But as there was good stuff in her, she would do
useful work yet, although shorn of many illusions. The other woman was a
professional nurse, whose services were paid for like those of Mary
Crane.

"_Now_ may we go?" said Anne, when the new nurse had been installed.

Dr. Janes, loath to consent, yet ashamed, as he said himself, of his own
greediness, m