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 OLD PALS! I'm here. J'y suis! bet your boots! While you're
wondering what has become of the Bright Young Thing, the B. Y. T.
is lookin' out of the winder of St. Barabbas' Hospital--just taking