hand at taking anything that's about, and keeping it for herself. She
doesn't call it stealing, don't you see. Why, the other day she was
having her temperature taken, and when the nurse turned her head away
there was no thermometer to be seen. 'What have you done with it?' she
says. 'Why, I declare, I must have etten it,' says this old lady. What
do you think of that?"

The old woman turned over in bed, and her innocent eyes closed with a
patient expression.

"I don't know what people are allowed to come talking here for when it
isn't visiting day," she said. "Nobody can go to sleep for such
talking."

Anne sat down beside Jane and began to sing--

"I was a wandering sheep;
I did not love the fold."

The Matron watched with an air of curiosity. Jane did not cease staring
into the fire.

"It's no use, Miss Hilton. I daresay the old lady's a bit right. There's
a slice of temper in it too. But we can't waste all day over her."

Anne took Jane's hand. "I'll come and see you again in a little while,"
she said. "And remember, there's always One that'll hear all that you
can't tell to any one else. He's with you here waiting to hear and help
you." She lingered. There was no response. The Matron walked briskly
towards the door.