had he never before realized that she was the
sweetest, finest, most adorable, and onliest girl in the world, and
worth a whole board-room full of youngest and prettiest trustees?

"I came back," went on Margaret MacLean, slowly, "really because of the
Old Senior Surgeon, to stand, as he stood in the days long ago, between
you and the incurable ward; to shut out--if I could--the little,
thoughtless, hurting things that you are always saying without being in
the least bit conscious of them, and to keep the children from wanting
too much the friendship and loving interest that, somehow, they
expected from you. I wanted to try and make them feel that they were
not case this and case that, abnormally diseased and therefore objects
of pity and curiosity to be pointed out to sympathetic visitors, but
children--just children--with a right to be happy and loved. I wanted
to fill their minds so full of fun and make-believe that they would
have to forget about their poor little bodies. I tried to make you
feel this and help without putting it--cruelly--into words; but you
would never understand. You have never let them forget for a moment
that they are 'incurables,' any more than you have let me forget that I
am a--foundling."

She stopped a moment for breath, and the smile came back--a wistfully
pleading smile. "I am afraid that last was not in the report. What I
want to say is--please keep the incurable ward; take the time to really
know them--and love them a little. If you only could you would never
consider sending them away for a moment. And if, in addition to the
splendid care you have given their bodies, you would only help to keep
their minds and hearts sound and sweet, and shield them against curious
visitors, why--why--some of them might turn out to be 'a case in a
thousand.' Don't you see--can't you see--that they have as much right
to their scraps of life and happiness--as your children have to their
complete lives, and that there is no place for them anywhere if Saint
Margaret's closes her doors?"

With an overwhelming suddenness she became conscious of the attitude of
the trustees. She, who was nothing but a foundling and a charity
patient herself, had dared to pass judgment on them; it was
inconceivable--it was impertinent--it was beyond all precedent. Only
the gray wisp of a woman sat silent, seeming to express nothing.
Margaret MacLean's cheeks flamed; she shrank into herself, her whole
being acute