he was evidently in great distress, for he could not walk, and instead
of lifting his emerald overcoat, and spreading the wings that lay
underneath, he turned over again, and kicked more violently than
before. Not knowing what to do, Nelly put him into one of her soft
nests for Tony to cure if possible. She found no more patients in the
garden except a dead bee, which she wrapped in a leaf, and took home
to bury. When she came to the grove, it was so green and cool she
longed to sit and listen to the whisper of the pines, and watch the
larch-tassels wave in the wind. But, recollecting her charitable
errand, she went rustling along the pleasant path till she came to
another patient, over which she stood considering several minutes
before she could decide whether it was best to take it to her
hospital, because it was a little gray snake, with a bruised tail. She
knew it would not hurt her, yet she was afraid of it; she thought it
pretty, yet could not like it; she pitied its pain, yet shrunk from
helping it, for it had a fiery eye, and a keen quivering tongue, that
looked as if longing to bite.

"He is a rebel, I wonder if I ought to be good to him," thought Nelly,
watching the reptile writhe with pain. "Will said there were sick
rebels in his hospital, and one was very kind to him. It says, too, in
my little book, 'Love your enemies.' I think snakes are mine, but I
guess I'll try and love him because God made him. Some boy will kill
him if I leave him here, and then perhaps his mother will be very sad
about it. Come, poor worm, I wish to help you, so be patient, and
don't frighten me."

Then Nelly laid her little handkerchief on the ground, and with a
stick gently lifted the wounded snake upon it, and, folding it
together, laid it in the ambulance. She was thoughtful after that, and