"Now, Della, dear," interrupted the elder sister, restively, "I love
you, and I love to have you come here; but I simply cannot endure
being preached to. It's all very well for you to turn yourself into an
angel of mercy and give cups of cold water, and bandage up broken
heads, and all that. Perhaps YOU can forget Jamie that way; but I
couldn't. It would only make me think of him all the more, wondering
if HE had any one to give him water and bandage up his head. Besides,
the whole thing would be very distasteful to me--mixing with all sorts
and kinds of people like that."

"Did you ever try it?"

"Why, no, of course not!" Mrs. Carew's voice was scornfully indignant.

"Then how can you know--till you do try?" asked the young nurse,
rising to her feet a little wearily. "But I must go, dear. I'm to meet
the girls at the South Station. Our train goes at twelve-thirty. I'm
sorry if I've made you cross with me," she finished, as she kissed her
sister good-by.

"I'm not cross with you, Della," sighed Mrs. Carew; "but if you only
would understand!"

One minute later Della Wetherby made her way through the silent,
gloomy halls, and out to the street. Face, step, and manner were very
different from what they had been when she tripped up the steps less
than half an hour before. All the alertness, the springiness, the joy
of living were gone. For half a block she listlessly dragged one foot
after the other. Then, suddenly, she threw back her head and drew a
long breath.