ears, died, knowing
there was no one to bury him there, he wrapped him in a blanket and
brought him into town on his back, for burial."

Holyland's face grew sad, and his eyes modestly sought the floor, as he
listened to this unexpected revelation.

"I wish to speak of something else," added one of the men, "which we
were held back from doing, and for which we are now very glad. We should
not have thought of it ourselves. It is customary," he continued, "when
a patient dies in an epidemic, to give the nurse ten dollars for
preparing the body for burial; this was done in our first case, but Mr.
Holyland had the gift promptly returned with thanks, and the explanation
that we were employed by an organization which fully rewarded its
nurses, and was too high and too correct to accept tribute for
misfortune; it was enough that the patient was lost."

By this time poor black Annie Evans, the "Mammy" of the group, could
hold quiet no longer, and broke silence with, "Missus President! whar is
de colonel? Colonel Southmayd; dey tells me all de time he's gone away
from New Orleans, and I can't b'l'eve 'em. He can't go away; he can't
lib anywhar else, he was always dar. I'se nursed in yellow fever and
cholera more'n twenty-five year, and I neber went for nobody but him; it
arn't no New Orleans for us widout him dar. I doesn't know de name of
dat place dey say he's gone to, and I doesn't want to; he'll be in New
Orleans when we gets dar."

There were pitying glances among the group, at this little burst of
feeling, for in some way it was an echo of their own; and Lena Seymour
added tenderly: "We have been trying for these two months to convince
Mammy about this, but she is firm in her faith and sometimes refuses to
hear us." But the subject changed with "How many cases did you lose in
this epidemic, Mammy?"

"I didn't lose no cases! Lor' bless you, honey, I doesn't lose cases if
dey hasn't been killed afore dey gets to me; folks needn't die of yellow
fever."

We didn't suppose that "Mammy" intended any reflection upon the medical
fraternity.

"But now, friends, we must turn to our settlement, which can not be
difficult. Three dollars a day for each nurse, for seventy-nine days,
till you are home on Thanksgiving morning. But here are only ten. There
are eighteen on our list who left with you and Colonel Southmayd; where
are your comrades?" Some eyes flashed and some moistened, as they
answered, "We do not know." "They remai