nding.

"Good-night, Christine," he said, and went into the hall and upstairs.

The lamp was not lighted in his room, but the street light glowed
through the windows. Once again the waving fronds of the ailanthus tree
flung ghostly shadows on the walls. There was a faint sweet odor of
blossoms, so soon to become rank and heavy.

Over the floor in a wild zigzag darted a strip of white paper which
disappeared under the bureau. Reginald was building another nest.

CHAPTER XXI

Sidney went into the operating-room late in the spring as the result of
a conversation between the younger Wilson and the Head.

"When are you going to put my protegee into the operating-room?" asked
Wilson, meeting Miss Gregg in a corridor one bright, spring afternoon.

"That usually comes in the second year, Dr. Wilson."

He smiled down at her. "That isn't a rule, is it?"

"Not exactly. Miss Page is very young, and of course there are other
girls who have not yet had the experience. But, if you make the
request--"

"I am going to have some good cases soon. I'll not make a request, of
course; but, if you see fit, it would be good training for Miss Page."

Miss Gregg went on, knowing perfectly that at his next operation Dr.
Wilson would expect Sidney Page in the operating-room. The other doctors
were not so exigent. She would have liked to have all the staff old and
settled, like Dr. O'Hara or the older Wilson. These young men came in
and tore things up.

She sighed as she went on. There were so many things to go wrong. The
butter had been bad--she must speak to the matron. The sterilizer in
the operating-room was out of order--that meant a quarrel with the chief
engineer. Requisitions were too heavy--that meant going around to the
wards and suggesting to the head nurses that lead pencils and bandages
and adhesive plaster and safety-pins cost money.

It was particularly inconvenient to move Sidney just then. Carlotta
Harrison was off duty, ill. She had been ailing for a month, and now she
was down with a temperature. As the Head went toward Sidney's ward,
her busy mind was playing her nurses in their wards like pieces on a
checkerboard.

Sidney went into the operating-room that afternoon. For her blue
uniform, kerchief, and cap she exchanged the hideous operating-room
garb: long, straight white gown with short sleeves and mob-cap,
gray-white from many sterilizations. But the ugly costume seemed to
emphasize her beauty, as the