e the strongest sick girl I ever saw," declared the nurse. "I
hope I have made no mistake."

"Well, indeed you have," replied Dorothy. "I tell you I am not and
have never been a patient at any institution. I thought there was some
test of mentality--the eye, isn't it?"

"But nurses cannot make tests," answered Miss Bell. "We have to wait
for the dear professional, all-powerful doctors to do that. This is my
first day here, and I think I am going to be almost as lonely as you
are."

"I am sorry for you, but _you_ may _leave_ if you wish. It is quite
different in my case!"

"My dear, if you can only be content to-night, I promise you some one
will come to-morrow. They have sent for your mother--Mrs. Harriwell."

"Oh, the mother of the lost girl? Well, she will know. But I must stay
all night in this dreadful place--all night?"

"I promise not to leave you. They will send another nurse to relieve
me, but I will decline to go. Somehow you have almost convinced me
there is a mistake."

"Thank you," replied Dorothy. "Perhaps it will be best not to
complain."

She was looking out at the beautiful grounds and thinking of the dear
ones whose hearts must be torn with anguish for her. If only she could
telegraph!

"Do you think I could send a message?" she asked, "to my friends--to
my cousins, at Everglade?"

"I am afraid not--until after the doctor sees you. You see, some other
patient--a man named Morrison--is blamed for having helped you to
escape."

"Morrison?" repeated Dorothy. "That is the name of the man who is to
blame for all this trouble; that is, we blamed him for inducing a
friend of mine to leave our camp."

"He has a faculty for inducing people to leave," said Miss Bell. "We
hope we will soon be able to catch him--then it is not likely that he
will get another chance to exercise that faculty. Three patients left
the day that you did."

"The day that _she_ did," corrected Dorothy. "Well, nurse, since you
are so kind to me, we must be friends, and I must not make you any
unnecessary trouble."

"One has to be kind to you," said the nurse, putting her cheek close
to Dorothy's. "I must comb out your hair. It has been neglected."

"Yes, but that will be easily fixed up again. Such matters seem
scarcely to trouble me now. There are so many bigger things to think
of."

The nurse got comb and brush, and started to smooth out the long,
light tresses.

"What is that scratch?" she asked, stopping to look