the Harrison girl, beating a tattoo with her heels in the next room.

Dr. Max, belonging to the class of man who settles his tie every time he
sees an attractive woman, thrust his hands into the pockets of his long
white coat and surveyed her quizzically.

"Did Dr. Ed tell you?"

"Sit down. He said something about the hospital. How's your mother and
Aunt Harriet?"

"Very well--that is, mother's never quite well." She was sitting forward
on her chair, her wide young eyes on him. "Is that--is your nurse from the
hospital here?"

"Yes. But she's not my nurse. She's a substitute."

"The uniform is so pretty." Poor Sidney! with all the things she had meant
to say about a life of service, and that, although she was young, she was
terribly in earnest.

"It takes a lot of plugging before one gets the uniform. Look here,
Sidney; if you are going to the hospital because of the uniform, and with
any idea of soothing fevered brows and all that nonsense--"

She interrupted him, deeply flushed. Indeed, no. She wanted to work. She
was young and strong, and surely a pair of willing hands--that was absurd
about the uniform. She had no silly ideas. There was so much to do in the
world, and she wanted to help. Some people could give money, but she
couldn't. She could only offer service. And, partly through earnestness