e morphine he needs--and
strychnine, though he's past strychnine, I fear; morphine's the one
chance, and that's mighty little."

"He talked about wanting to see you," said the nurse. She had a sweet
voice, plainly a lady's voice; and her slim figure, in the blue-striped
gown and white surplice, had a lady's grace. Her face was not handsome,
nor was it very young, but it had a touch of her voice's sweetness. The
doctor found himself glad to look at her; and forgetting his patients in
his interest in the nurse.

"Oh, yes,"--he roused himself--"I'll look 'round later; I suppose he is
delirious?"

"Not so much that he does not recognize us. He talks all the time of his
town, poor fellow, and seems to want to have them understand that he
hasn't neglected his duty. He only once has spoken of any relations.
It's all the town, and the captain and Danvers making it right there;
and the boys going back--I suppose he has lived there all his life
and--"

"Not a bit of it; Danvers told me he merely enlisted from there. But
they are making a great time over him. Telegraphed to have his body sent
there; and here's another telegram. See--"

"I'll let him see," said the nurse, taking it, "may I, Doctor?"

"Yes, but not the first part about sending him back; that's a little too
previous."

The nurse's touch roused Spruce. "Dick," he murmured, "Dick, you tell
the folks. I couldn't go with the regiment--you know why."

"They know why, too; here's a telegram from your captain's father: 'Tell
Spruce he's the hero of Company G.'"

"Read it again!"

She read it. His hand tightened on hers. Her trained eyes were on his
face.

"Ain't it the--the _bulliest_ town! I wisht I'd enough money to go back;
but you see my folks got to have my pay. But I wisht--"

Her eyes, not the nurse's now, but a woman's, sought the doctor's in a
glance of question and appeal. He nodded.

Her sweet voice said: "And the town has telegraphed that no expense must
be spared to cure you; but if you don't recover you are to go back to
them."

Spruce drew a long, ecstatic sigh. "Oh--didn't I tell you? Ain't it the
bulliest town!"

A minute later he murmured, "Thank you, Dick," and, still holding the
nurse's hand, Spruce went to see his town.

A MIRACLE PLAY

The widow Darter's house was set on a hill. It was a story-and-a-half
cottage, of stucco, to which sun and wind and frost had offered their
kind offices, mellowing pleasantly its original