he heard an
imbecile chuckle in his ear. It was the simple old clergyman: "You are
going to London to join the Church, John; Golly is going there, too, as
hospital nurse. There's a pair of you! He! he! Look after her, John,
and protect her Manx simplicity." Before John could recover himself,
Golly was at his side executing the final steps of a "cellar-door flap
jig" to the light-hearted refrain:--

"We are a simple family--we are--we are--we are!"

And even as her pure young voice arose above the screams of the
departure whistle, she threw a double back-somersault on the
quarterdeck, cleverly alighting on the spikes of the wheel before the
delighted captain.

"Jingle my electric bells," he said, looking at the bright young thing,
"but you're a regular minx--"

"I beg your pardon," interrupted John Gale, with a quick flush.

"I mean a regular MANX," said the captain hurriedly.

A singular paleness crossed the deeply religious face of John. As the
vessel rose on the waves, he passed his hand hurriedly first across his
brows and then over his high-buttoned clerical waistcoat, that visible
sign of a devoted ascetic life! Then murmuring in his low, deep voice,
"Brandy, steward," he disappeared below.

BOOK II

Glorious as were Golly's spirits, exquisitely simple her worldly
ignorance, and irresistible her powers of mimicry, strangely enough
they were considered out of place in St. Barabbas' Hospital. A
light-hearted disposition to mistake a blister for a poultice; that
rare Manx conscientiousness which made her give double doses to the
patients as a compensation when she had omitted to give them a single
one, and the faculty of bursting into song at the bedside of a dying
patient, produced some liveliness not unmixed with perplexity among the
hospital staff. It is true, however, that her performance of
clog-dancing during the night-watches drew a larger and more persistent
attendance of students and young surgeons than ever was seen before.
Yet everybody loved her! Even her patients! "If it amooses you, miss,
to make me tyke the pills wot's meant for the lydy in the next ward, I
ain't complyning," said an East End newsboy. "When ye tyke off the
style of the doctor wot wisits me, miss, and imitates his wyes, Lawd!
it does me as much good as his mixtures," said a consumptive charwoman.
Even thus, old and young basked in the radiant youth of Golly. She
found time to write to her family:--

DEAR