hone switchboards were rushed at an
unconscionably early hour, considering that their station compassed the
Avenue. The President was trying to get the trustees, Saint
Margaret's, and the Senior Surgeon; the trustees were trying to get one
another; while the Senior Surgeon was rapidly covering the distance
between his home and the hospital--his mind busy with a multitude of
things, none of which he had ever written with capitals.

Saint Margaret's was astir before its usual hour; there was a tang of
joyousness in the air, and everybody's heart and mind, strangely
enough, seemed to be in festal attire, although nobody was outwardly
conscious of it. It was all the more inexplicable because Saint
Margaret's had gone to bed miserable, and events naturally pointed
toward depression: Margaret MacLean's coming departure, the abandoning
of Ward C, the House Surgeon's resignation, and Michael's empty crib.

Ward C had wakened with a laugh. Margaret MacLean, who had been moving
noiselessly about the room for some time, picking up the withered
remains of the primrose ring, looked up with apprehension. The tears
she had shed over Michael's crib were quite dry, and she had a brave
little speech on the end of her tongue ready for the children's
awakening. Eight pairs of sleepy eyes were rubbed open, and then
unhesitatingly turned in the direction of the empty crib in the corner.

"Michael has gone away." she said, softly, steadying her voice with
great care. "He has gone where he will be well--and his heart sound
and strong."

She was wholly unprepared for the children's response. It was so
unexpected, in fact, that for the moment she tottered perilously near
the verge of hysterics. The children actually grinned; while Bridget
remarked, with a chuckle:

"Ye are afther meanin' that he didn't come back--that's what!" And
then she added, as an afterthought, "He said to tell ye 'God bless ye,'
Miss Peggie."

Margaret MacLean did not know whether to be shocked or glad that the
passing of a comrade had brought no sign of grief. Instead of being
either, she went on picking up the primroses and wondering. As for the
children, they lay back peacefully in their beds, their eyes laughing
riotously. And every once in a while they would look over at one
another, giving the funniest little expressive nods, which seemed to
say: "I know what you're thinking about, and you know what I'm thinking
about, so what's the need of talking