iful within. Books are
the same as people, I think. We like to see both attractively clothed,
but in each it is the soul that counts....

"What a lot of presents I received--from Miss Merriman and her mother,
Mrs. Thayer and little Muriel, and, oh, so many of the girls here. I
don't know why they are all so good to me--because I am looked upon as a
lonely little savage, I suppose. And then there was that one from Dr.
Bentley. The idea of a simple mountain girl from Webb's Gap having five
whole pounds of candy at once!

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"The funniest thing happened to-day, and I must not forget to write
Donald all about it. He is sure to remember little red-headed Jimmy, who
has to spend so much of his time in the hospital. Has he imagination
enough, I wonder, to picture him sitting up in bed in the snow-white
ward, with his flaming auburn hair and bright red jacket calling names
at each other? I love the old custom to which the hospital still clings
of putting all the little patients into those red flannel jackets on
cold days, for it makes the wards look so cheerful--like Christmas
fields dotted with bright berries. Jimmy is a dear, and so imaginative
that I believe he _lives_ every story that I tell him of the
Cumberlands--certainly he likes them better than fairy stories. This
afternoon, I had finished telling him about how grandpappy shot the
turkey for Dr. MacDonald, and I found him looking up at me with his big
blue eyes, which can be as serious as a saint's or as mischievous as an
imp's. 'Your face is most always laughing, Miss Webb,' said he. 'I think
I shall have to call you Nurse Smiles.' My roommate, Miss Roberts,
happened to be in the room and heard him, and now it's all over the
hospital. Everybody is calling me it, unless the superintendent or some
of the older doctors are around. How odd it is that he should have
struck on it, and given me my old nickname again....

"Dr. Bentley called me Smiles when he left after his evening visit."

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May 17th, 1916.

"This has been a day of days for me. First I received a long and
wonderful letter from Donald. It seemed like old times, for it was as
kindly and simple, too, as those which he used to write to me at Webb's
Gap. I wonder if he regards me as still a child? I suppose that I