m Mary lately, Belle?"

"Not for a week, and I'm quite worried about her. Before that, she wrote
to me dutifully every two or three days, telling me all about her work.
I've kept on writing to her just the same, making excuses for her to
herself, and never doubting her for a minute; but to tell you the truth,
Dave, I'm getting dreadfully anxious."

Then I told her what I had heard.

"Don't you believe it, David! I never shall till I hear it from
herself. I know now for a certainty that I love that girl! I'll believe
her before all the world! I'll stick by her through thick and thin! I'll
not insult her by writing to the Hospital! What now matters the little
inconveniences of living with her? What have a few clothes and toilet
articles, more or less, to do with it? If she has failed, she shall come
_home_, and we'll begin the three years' fight all over again. I'll sit
down now and write her the nicest letter I can write."

That sounded very brave, but inwardly I knew that my wife suffered
agonies the next few days.

"Perhaps if I had done this," she would say, "or if I had done that--it
seems precisely like a death, and I've killed her."

Tuesday morning, two letters came from Mary. They were hurriedly and
excitedly written.

"My dear good mother, I am accepted! It is the happiest day of my life;
it will be a red letter day for you! I love you. I have tried so hard
for your sake; I have tried to make my life hear one long prayer and the
dear Lord helps me. I did not write because the exam. was delaid, and I
wanted to wait untill I had something _good_ to tell you. I look nice in
the unniform. It is pink and a white cap, apron and cuffs. Oh I am so
contented; this work is so filling. I never get lonely or homesick. _We_
nurses had a party, and we danced and served ice cream, and there was
some lovely doctors here, and the Princippal is so kind to us we have
lots of fun"--and so the letters ran on.

* * * * *

The reaction was too much for Belle. She cried, then she laughed, then
she fell on her knees and thanked God, and she told me she added that,
for pity's sake, He _must_ set His angels to guard Mary, for she was a
poor, frail child, who had got lost in coming this time, and many
persecuted her because she was pretty, and might find a resting place
and get a little of what rightfully (?) belonged to them.

After a while she went down to see Mr. Armstrong, and read him the
let