behind that Dr. Adair's own neat runabout.

Dr. Adair met Dr. Isaac at the door.

"It's an emergency case," he explained hastily. "I may have to operate
to-night. Prepare number sixteen, and see if Miss Molloy is off duty."

"She is, sir," said Isaac, grimly, "and the sooner she's put on a case
the better."

"Tell her to report at once. And send an orderly down to lend a hand with
the stretcher."

Five minutes later an immaculate nurse, every button fastened, every fold
in place, presented herself on the third floor for duty. You would have
had to look twice to make certain that that slim, trim figure in its
white uniform was actually Nance Molloy. To be sure her eyes sparkled
with the old fire under her becoming cap, and her chin was still carried
at an angle that hinted the possession of a secret gold mine, but she had
changed amazingly for all that. Life had evidently been busy chiseling
away her rough edges, and from a certain poise of body and a
professional control of voice and gesture, it was apparent that Nance had
done a little chiseling on her own account.

As she stood in the dim corridor awaiting orders, she could not help
overhearing a conversation between Dr. Adair and the agitated lady who
stood with her hand on the door-knob of number sixteen.

"My dear madam," the doctor was saying in a tone that betokened the limit
of patience, "you really must leave the matter to my judgment, if we