ressed. The little
quivering creature, hastily undressed, was put to bed, face, head,
arms, and hands covered with oil and bandaged. It was not until
another nurse--telephoned for from somewhere to somewhere--had
arrived, and the invalid had been given an opiate, that Win realized
the tingling pain in her own fingers.

"Why, yes, so I _am_ burned a little!" she exclaimed when the doctor
asked to see her hands. "But it's nothing to matter. I can go back to
work now. Nurse is all right."

"No, it's nothing to matter, and you can go back to work, all right,"
briskly echoed Marlow, who was no coddler of any hands at Peter
Rolls's; "that is, you can when I've patched you up a bit. And nurse
isn't going to be bad, either. She won't be disfigured, I can
guarantee that--thanks to you."

"Thanks to me?" Win echoed.

"Yes, just that. Perhaps you don't realize that you probably saved her
life."

"No. I--I don't think I've realized anything yet." She found herself
suddenly wanting to cry, but remembered a day on the _Monarchic_ (as
she always did remember if tears felt near) and swallowed the rising
lump in her throat.

"Well, don't bother about it. You can get conceited later. Here, drink
this to quiet your nerves in case you feel jumpy, and now run along.
It'll be all right for you downstairs. The news will have got to your
dep by this time and they'll know why you're late."

Win "ran along" and found the doctor's prophecy correct The news had
bounded ahead of her.

"I hear you've been distinguishing yourself," said Mr. Wellby, the
floorwalker. "Let's see your hands. Oh, I guess they won't put you out
of business, a brave girl like you."

"I'm as well as ever, thank you," said Win.

Stupid of her, wanting to cry again just because people were paying
her compliments! But perhaps she hadn't quite got over last night and
not sleeping at all. And then Sadie's letter. Things had piled on top
of each other, but she mustn't let herself go to pieces. She must keep
her wits and think--think--think how to get at Sadie and what to do
for her.

Dr. Marlow had covered Win's fingers with something he called
"newskin," since it would not do for a "saleslady" to disgust
customers by serving them with bandaged hands. It was like a
transparent varnish and made her nails shine as brightly as those of
the vainest girls who spent all their spare time in polishing. But the
redness showed through, as if her hands were horribly chapped.