ay, my mother angel (angel is the only
word good enough for her), in a starchy blue and white uniform, leaned
over close to my lips and I saw her smile in such a lovely way, shake
her head and press a finger to her lips as she gently lifted me and drew
a smooth, cool pillow under my tired head. But she did not speak. She
placed a screen before the window and I fell asleep.

The next time I saw my mother angel she was laughing at me softly while
looking over the foot of the bed. I was able to respond by raising my
eyebrows and turning my creaking neck on its rusty hinge toward the
sunshine that brought the glory of life into the room through a broad
window.

"Good morning, ma'am," I said, not venturing to be too familiar with the
lady, for I was at once struck with my inferiority to this saintly
vision.

"Good morning, sir. Do you feel well to-day?"

"Yes, ma'am," said I; "I have never been ill."

A low, pleasant laugh, like the soft trill of a muffled music box,
greeted my statement.

"I believe you," she said. "You will soon be out again."

"Am I in? Where am I in?"

"This is Bellevue Hospital," said she. "But you'll soon be gone from
here. You're as tough and strong as rawhide and wrought iron."

Here was a woman who could size me up. I took her word for it and tried
to turn over and get up, but nothing happened.

"Tush, tush! Don't get lively now! Think what you've been through. Take
it easy. Dr. Hanley says you are a wonderful fellow; that he will
always be proud of you."

"Is the pickle coming?" I asked expectantly, as if I had heard it knock
on the door.

"Yes, it's coming," she laughed. "But it won't get here this week.
Here's something that is a good deal better."

She squeezed out a thimbleful of orange juice and placed it in a low cup
with a long snout like a locomotive oil can, designed to poke in
out-of-the-way places. With this device she was able to get through my
beard and find my mouth. As she gently tipped it, the goodly nectar
trickled upon my desert tongue, to be quickly evaporated in that arid
area before it reached far along the parched wastes. I wanted to swim in
it, but these hospitals provide poor entertainment for their patrons.

"Pretty flowers there," said I, pointing to a great mass of roses and
orchids, showing the freshness of recent arrival.

"Oh, she hasn't forgotten you"; and her large blue eyes danced playfully
as she said it. I could see that those blue eyes would ag