flowers to Reverend Mother, and she was telling me what a beautiful
death old Catherine Macsweeny made. Reverend Mother rained tears when
she told me."

Nurse Brennan sniffed.

"Reverend Mother's a sweet woman, and the nuns are very attentive when
a person'd be dying, but indeed Mrs. Mangan, if you ask _me_, I'd
say 'twas the only time they were much use to their patients! Up at
that infirmary what have patients at night to look after them only an
old inmate, and she 'wanting' maybe!"

Larry began to giggle, and was moved to try his wit.

"Nurse! What's the difference between a stale mate and an old inmate?
And what does it want?"

"It wants the very same as yourself--brains!" returned Nurse, swiftly.
"Now may be!" She wagged her head at him triumphantly, turning aside
to hide the smile of victory, and Larry thought how lovely was her
profile, as the firelight etched it in incandescent lines on the smoky
background.

"Well, indeed, the Poor have a deal to put up with!" said Mrs. Mangan,
lazily, leaning back in her basket-chair, with her big grey cat
purring like an aeroplane engine on her knee. "The Doctor says no one
but himself knows the way he's dragged all over the country, patching
up after some of them young fellows that get dispensaries before
they're fit to doctor the cat!"