she gets well--as we believe that
she will--little Lou will be as healthy and happy a baby as she ever
was in her life. He's taken out that wicked growth, kernel and all, and
it will never come back again. Will it, doctor?"

"Almost certainly not. Rose, we couldn't have done without you to-night.
You have been the brave little soldier that I told you to be; but I'm
afraid that it has been a terrible strain for you. Of course, it was an
exceptional operation, rare and dangerous; but it has given you a pretty
vivid idea of what trained nurses have to go through frequently. Has it
changed your mind? Do you still think that you want to go ahead and give
your life to such work?"

"Would you ask a real soldier if he wanted to quit, or keep on fighting,
after he had been in one battle, and seen men killed and wounded? It's
got to be done, hasn't it, if the poor sick babies and grown-up people
are to be made strong and well again? And I've just _got_ to help do it,
Donald."

He gave Miss Merriman a significant look; but his only response was,
"Well, unless you want another job--that of bringing back to life people
who have starved to death--you had better get us a bite to eat and some
of your strong coffee. My internal anatomy ..."

"Oh, I plumb forgot. You haven't had a thing to eat--nor poor
granddaddy, either. I'm so ashamed I could _die_."

* * * * *

Two hours later, after she had finished making the old man as
comfortable as possible for the night, Rose rejoined the other two in
the main cabin. She came just in time to catch Donald in the act of
half-heartedly trying to conceal a deep yawn.

As he, in turn, caught sight of her sympathetic smile, he said, "We have
given our patient a mild sleep inducer; and now, Rose, I want you to go
up into my loft room right away, and get a long night's sleep yourself.
You've been under a mighty heavy strain to-day; there are many other
hard days coming, and we can't have another patient on our hands."

The girl nodded, sleepily; but she had not taken one weary step before a
different thought struck her, and she turned back to cry, contritely,
"But you ... and Miss Merriman. There won't be any place for you to
sleep, or for her either. Oh, what can we do?"

"Just forget about us, my child. I shan't undress to-night, anyway, and
can roll myself in my big fur coat and camp out in your little room,
since Lou must stay out here where it is warmer. An