"Lor, Nurse, ain't it beautiful?"

It was a chocolate box, a comfortable-looking chocolate box, ornamented
with a red-headed St. George, a large blue dragon and a vivid orange bow.

"It does seem nice," I agreed.

"Fancy 'im spending all that on me," said Martha.

"You'll be able to have quite a feast," said I, smiling at my old friend
St. George.

Martha looked suddenly shy.

"I'm not going to keep it," she confided. She came closer to me. "Do you
remember young Renshaw, what used to be in your ward, Nurse?"

I nodded; I remembered him well, a cheery boy with a smashed leg, now in a
Convalescent Home by the sea.

"'Im and me's engaged," said Martha in a hoarse whisper. "I liked 'im and
he liked me, and one day I was doing the windows 'e asked me. 'E says the
food down there is that monopolous, so I'll send him this 'ere just to
cheer 'im up like."

It seemed an excellent idea to me. I beamed upon Martha. I helped her to
re-wrap St. George, and lent her my fountain-pen to write the address which
was to send my Knight once more upon his travels. It appeared to me that he
and his dragon were seeing a lot of life.